


Mise au Jeu de la Zone Neutre

by aintyouafraid



Series: Stucky Bingo 2020 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Defenseman Bucky Barnes, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Forward steve rogers, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Pining, Switching, Top Bucky Barnes, aka the most hockey of tags, service top steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintyouafraid/pseuds/aintyouafraid
Summary: Bucky and Steve have known each other since they were seven and six respectively and they have been best friends ever since, even when Bucky is drafted to the rival Philadelphia Flyers and Steve goes to the New York Rangers. Bucky still doesn't expect Steve to suggest a friends with benefits situation.It's a terrible idea.That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to do it anyway, though.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Stucky Bingo 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831327
Comments: 43
Kudos: 139
Collections: Stucky Bingo 2020





	1. Game 1: November 20, NYR @ PHI (0-2)

**Author's Note:**

> This entire story would not be possible without the Chaos Squad who not only put up with my obsession for hockey, but also cheerleaded (cheerled?) me writing this fic the entire time. Special thanks to Cali who helped me figure out why I would get stuck and how to keep moving and Ginger for reading it over and telling me when it sounded awkward and when it sounded sexy. I love you both!
> 
> There's no need to know much about hockey for this as it is honestly approximately 75% smut and 25% plot, though there are a few terms thrown around that are common in the hockey world. I've tried to note when they occur in chapter notes.

If someone told Bucky that he would get drafted to the Flyers and Steve to the Rangers and asked him who got the better end of the draft deal a few years ago, Bucky would have said Steve – privately of course, since it doesn’t matter if you get drafted to your childhood team’s rival, you suck it up and say you’re excited to everyone but your closest family and friends.

Don’t get him wrong, Bucky is definitely excited to get to play in the NHL – it was just hard to be excited about playing for the Philadelphia Flyers until he was actually playing for the Flyers, until he met the team and learned they were all cool and not the spawn of Satan he believed them to be when he was cheering for the Rangers. Bucky is basically the enemy now, and has been since the moment he got drafted. Steve of course found a video of the moment Bucky got drafted and sent several screenshots of Bucky’s slightly horrified face morphing into a wide and falsely bright smile with increasingly mocking texts the day of, and hasn’t stopped since. It’s been over a year, his dedication to Bucky’s suffering is truly astounding.

Four months after Steve’s own draft, and Bucky is still miffed that he didn’t even get revenge because Steve had to go and be drafted to the Rangers. Of course that little shit would be lucky enough to get drafted to his hometown team. At least after he talked Steve through the combine and reassured him that he wasn’t gonna get his first asthma attack in seven years doing the Wingate test, he did get to make fun of him for throwing up. Bucky didn’t, but he knows a lot of guys besides Steve who did, so it’s definitely not as satisfying as Steve getting drafted to, say, fucking Jersey.

Even if his childhood self would probably kick him in the balls for having one good thought about the Flyers, Bucky actually kind of loves them after playing a year bouncing between Lehigh and Philadelphia. Yeah, the rivalry thing sucked at first and his sisters (and Steve) give him shit for it all the time, but he could have been drafted to Edmonton where he would still be wearing orange but also be a seven hour plane ride rather than an hour and a half train ride from his family and Steve. And he thinks most of his teammates are pretty cool dudes, and the ones who aren’t are okay… like, tolerable, or whatever.

With several trades occurring over the summer, Bucky is now pretty solidly on the roster, usually second-pairing D even. Steve plays six, seven, eight games, and calls Bucky after the ninth game saying that he’s staying up, they’re not sending him down to Hartford, he’s officially a Ranger.

“We’ll share our rookie year, Bucky!”

“Guess you’re not gonna get the Calder then, punk.”

“See you in three weeks, jerk, and we’ll see who’s laughing then.”

It’s Bucky.

The Rangers come to Philadelphia for a game shortly before Thanksgiving, and the Flyers _shut them out_ at home. No goals for the Rangers is an accomplishment on the Flyers defense, and that includes Bucky, who is pretty damn proud of his assist on a goal and four blocked shots. Bucky loves a game like that, where everything is just clicking and the other team isn’t floundering, is giving it their all and still can’t beat them. He also knows how frustrating it can be to play against a team like that, so he sticks to logistics as he texts Steve after he’s showered.

It’s the first time they’ve played against each other, Bucky and Steve each going a year apart to the Erie Otters when they played junior, and they were on every USNTDP team together too, and while Steve is a competitive little shit – they all are if they end up playing a sport for a living at this level – they agreed they wouldn’t shut each other out since they’re only going to see each other a handful of times a season. They’ll just avoid talking about this game in particular, which isn’t hard since they’re taking the train together to New York for Thanksgiving. Plenty of family shit to talk about instead.

Most guys aren’t going to head home for a break that’s usually only two days, three because the Flyers are lucky and don’t play on Black Friday this year. If Bucky weren’t playing within two hours of home and wouldn’t hear the end of it if he didn’t come home, he would have considered staying in Philly and going into a small coma, but alas, his ma has guilted him into coming. On the bright side, he won’t have to listen to all the Canadians bitching about American Thanksgiving when they’ve already moodily mourned missing their Thanksgiving last month. Another plus, he’ll get to spend it with Steve. He can take or leave his sisters at this point; Becca’s in a weird hipster freshman phase and Bella and Bree are freaking out about college applications, but he misses Steve, even if they text all the time and try to video call at least once a week.

It’s only an hour and a half train ride from Philadelphia to New York, and Steve got him a ticket for the train the Rangers who were heading back to New York rather than off to their families were on. He emailed it to Bucky since trying to meet at the station before a holiday was probably going to be horrendous and there was no way he was going to hitch a ride on the Rangers’ team bus. There’s boundaries.

He finds Steve in the lounge area right before they call first class boarding, and he and about a dozen Rangers he can recognize and a handful of business people all board the train. Steve booked him and Bucky two of the seats at the front of the car, cheerfully flipping off each of his teammates as they chirp him for getting motion sickness if he faces backwards. They all head towards two of the conference tables at the very back of the last car, one table quickly declaring itself as Texas Holdem and the other Seven Card Stud. It’s a good thing to know that strong opinions about poker seem to be common in a subset of players on every team.

Aside from the occasional bursts of sound from the table of giant children in the back, the train car is fairly quiet. At the front of the car, it’s just him and Steve and tired businessmen and women with earbuds in and neck pillows, probably listening to podcasts or white noise or whateverthefuck. Combined with his and Steve’s seats facing each other over a tiny table and low voices, it feels like there’s a level of privacy, so they freely talk about their families and the holiday. Sarah is doing the turkey this year while Bucky’s ma is doing all the sides. Bucky tells Steve about Becca’s crazy college roommate and how she’s so excited to be coming home for a few days and the twins probably holing up in their room to work on college applications because they’ve put it off to the last minute. Steve tells him about weird stories his mama has from working at the hospital emergency room, which has been especially fun ever since she decided that Steve was old enough to hear the sex-related injury stories.

“There was a whole salami in his ass?” 

Bucky is trying to keep his voice down and resist from busting out laughing, but Steve’s already laughing and that sets him off. They’re getting mildly peeved looks from passengers around them, and then a pack of nuts nails Steve in the head and one of his teammates is running to the back of the bus whooping while the rest of them start laughing, so all in all they aren’t the best co-passengers to be stuck with on a train at 11:47pm. At least there’s only about fifteen minutes left before they’re at Penn Station so the various business people cannot band together and murder them.

Steve looks like he is going to make a salami joke that will restart the uproarious laughter and really push the woman behind him into stabbing them in the neck with her long red nails, so Bucky quickly says, “I don’t know, I can see getting that desperate. I haven’t had sex in months.”

“Seriously?”

“Steve, Philadelphia is a big city, but it is at least five times smaller than New York and there are no real big celebrities like Taylor Swift or Tina Fey or Harry Styles wandering around to make you relatively anonymous. All Philly has is sports, it would be a serious risk for me to just go out and try to hook up.”

Steve hums, but Bucky doesn’t assume it’s the end of the conversation. He’s just waiting for them to get off the train before they keep talking about Bucky’s non-existent love life.

They disembark, and after a lot of bro hugs full of back slapping and shoving, Steve leads Bucky away from his teammates and to his car.

“I can’t believe you’re one of them jerks in New York with a car,” Bucky mocks.

“Can’t miss a game because the F train broke down again,” Steve replies, tetrising their luggage into the small trunk. How such a big guy thought it was a good idea to buy a tiny sedan, Bucky doesn’t know. It was probably the most affordable sleek option so Steve wouldn’t get made fun of for getting a Prius. It’s probably still a hybrid though, the dork.

Once Steve has their luggage crammed in, he walks around to the driver’s side and slides in with ease despite how low the car is. Bucky expected him to have to cram himself in, but Steve is as graceful as always.

Bucky is really glad that he isn’t the one driving because off the ice, he is the opposite of graceful and he definitely would have crashed the car and killed them both with the way he startles and whips around when out of nowhere Steve says, “Maybe we could help each other out.”

“What?”

“You know we’ll see each other four more times this season. Multiple days even if you play the Islanders or the Devils around the same time.”

“Yes, but – what – what do you mean _help each other out_?”

“You know, hook up.”

“What about Peggy?”

“You know we broke up three weeks after she went to Oxford. Long distance and hockey schedules don’t really mix.”

“Yeah, I guess… I guess I always just thought you’d work it out.”

Steve laughs. “Didn’t peg you for a romantic, Buck.”

Bucky scowls. He is being serious and Steve is mocking him. “Not much of a chance to figure that out when you’re a gay professional athlete who really would rather people stay out of his sex life, but there’s no way that’s gonna happen if I’m out wining and dining a dude.”

Steve nods, flips on his blinker because he’s a boy scout, and looks at Bucky as he turns left at the next light.

“You’re right, Buck,” he says. “I know you don’t want to be out.”

“Pardon me for asking,” Bucky jokes, trying to switch back to the whole _we could help each other out_ thing before Steve can get all in his feelings about Bucky being lonely or some shit. Hopefully it also conveys that he really doesn’t mean anything bad about what he’s about to ask. “Have you ever even been with a guy?”

“It’s been three months since Peggy and I broke up, Buck, I’ve had my rebounds, including sex with at least one guy if you’re worried about me experimenting with you or whatever. I told you sophomore year that I was bi, and I know what I’m comfortable with,” Steve finishes, and fucking smirks at him, the asshole.

Luckily, they’re at a red light so Bucky can shove him without feeling like he’s endangering his own life.

Bucky’s glad Steve’s making a turn when he says, “So what, fuck buddies until one of us finds something better?” because he doesn’t know what his face is doing right now. Probably too much to be construed in any way as casual.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Steve says, hitting the button for the gate to what is presumably his apartment’s garage.

It’s a bad idea. No, it’s a fucking terrible idea. Bucky has maybe been a little bit in love with Steve since he was fourteen and Steve was thirteen and struggling to put on muscle and still hadn’t grown out of his asthma so he had to take a break midway through practices to use his inhaler. Bucky always had to cover for him because no one would have let him play if they’d known how bad it was and he knew they’d both get in trouble for it if anyone caught them, but it was worth it. It was worth it to see how happy Steve was diagramming plays and bossing his wingers around. A coach had tried to put him on the wing once because he was smaller and he didn’t think Steve could be as defensively responsible, but Steve was a center through-and-through and it never worked. Steve would find a way to wedge himself into every dicey play and pull it out. And then of course he shot up when he was fourteen and started putting muscle on right in time for the OHL draft so he was the perfect baby center, destined to be huge.

Maybe he can let Steve make the play and everything will turn out fine. It usually does, when it comes to Steve. Lucky bastard.

Just the idea of it is probably wishful thinking or rationalization or some bizarre combination of both if that’s even possible, but it’s after midnight and they’re pulling into a spot several levels up in the garage and Bucky can see Steve’s profile highlighted in moonlight, and he _wants_. He wants to have this, even if he knows he can’t keep it. 

Steve will find a nice girl or a nice boy who lives in New York, who he can come home to, who he can adopt a dog with without being worried about who is going to look after them when he’s on a long road trip, who he can have kids with long before both of them are ready to retire in hopefully fifteen to twenty years.

But in the meantime, maybe Bucky can let himself have this and trust that Steve won’t let it go to shit.

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Steve smiles at him, bright and beaming as always, and claps him on the shoulder before getting out of the car. They roll their luggage to Steve’s apartment, which is much nicer than the one he and his mama lived in when he was a kid. The floors are real hardwood and it’s an open floor plan with lots of light and space for a real desk in a corner near one of the windows. It makes Bucky happy that Steve still seems to be drawing, papers and pencils strewn across the desk in a way that does not suggest he signed a contract and forgot about it.

There’s a giant couch in the center of the room, which is much more decorated than any other rookie apartment he’s seen, aka not just a couch and a TV with a game system, but an actual coffee table and a rug “uniting the room” or whatever his ma said a rug did. There’s even a side table with a weirdly clear and metal lamp and a picture of Steve, Bucky, and his sisters when they were kids on it. Bucky shouldn’t be surprised – Steve is an artist, he likes his space to look nice and lived in, and he has the unfair advantage of living so close that he could easily bring boxes of his shit here without it being a pain _and_ costing an arm and a leg.

They’re barely in the door, luggage left to the side as Steve drops his keys on a table next to the door that actually has an honest-to-God little dish for them on it and even a mirror above it. Steve toes off his shoes and gestures for Bucky to do the same, and as he straightens up, Bucky is suddenly afraid that he will chicken out and he doesn’t want to. He looks away from where his shoes are set next to Steve’s lined up next to the door, feeling some pang of emotion he doesn’t want to examine just to the right of his heart, and with as much (false) confidence as he can muster, says, “So what’s the play, captain?”

Steve’s eyes go dark, pupil widening and the blue of them seeming to deepen somehow as he considers what he wants to do to Bucky. Bucky should have known Steve would love control. Maybe if they actually keep doing this, he’ll see how Steve responds to having to earn it.

Bucky sees the moment Steve makes a decision, but it doesn’t look like a fun one judging by the way his face falls. “Not tonight. It’s been a long day, and we have a few days of you in New York.”

“Thursday is Thanksgiving which will be spent with both of our families and then in a turkey coma and Friday you have a game and I have to go back to Philly, so I don’t know where you think we’ll magically make time.”

“So we’ll have tomorrow. We can say we’re tired and head over late or come back early. Not like our moms will want us underfoot while they’re prepping.”

“Fine.” Bucky is not pouting. He is a grown man talking about getting some here, not a petulant child.

Steve laughs at him, the asshole, but he does show him to the second bedroom, and Bucky really is tired, so he can be forgiven.

Bucky dramatically flops on the bed, gameday suit and all, and mumbles, “Goodnight, punk” into the pillow.

“‘Night, jerk,” Steve replies.

~*~

Bucky wakes up before Steve the next morning, which is not the normal, but he’s always had difficulty sleeping somewhere new, so he’s not surprised. He ties his hair back and takes a quick shower to wake and freshen up. He’s not sure what Steve is planning, but he wants to be ready.

He throws his sleep pants back on, not ready to get dressed for the day, and goes to the kitchen to try to figure out the coffee maker, because if he’s awake, he might as well have caffeine. One of Steve’s teammates is apparently obsessed with coffee and got Steve into the fancy stuff, including a fancy-ass coffee maker which takes Bucky several minutes to figure out, but is worth it when he takes the first sip of a very smooth, rich medium roast. With a ton of cream and sugar because he can, this is technically vacation, and there is no way for the team trainers to know or be more disapproving than they’re inevitably going to be when everyone comes back to Philadelphia filled up with potatoes and pie. Oh, he really hopes Sarah made some of her pecan pie. Bucky loves her pie.

Bucky is unceremoniously ripped from his pie fantasies by a giant who should definitely make more noise than he does given his size.

“Jesus, Steve, gotta put a bell on you or you’re gonna scare me to death.”

Steve laughs.

“Asshole,” Bucky mutters.

Steve grabs him around the waist, his stupidly massive hands spanning the width of Bucky’s hips, and moving up and down lightly, stroking Bucky’s sides gently but firmly enough that it’s not ticklish. And _oh_ , Bucky is very on board with what is happening.

“Seriously, first thing in the morning, Rogers? I haven’t even finished my coffee.”

“You shouldn’t be having that many empty calories anyway. I can wake you up just as good, baby,” Steve says, actually moving his eyebrows because he’s ridiculous.

“You’re ridiculous,” Bucky tells him, because it’s a statement of face at this point.

“You should not call the guy who’s about to give you a blowjob in his kitchen ridiculous. Seems like bad manners, and what would your ma say if you weren’t minding your manners?”

Bucky is about to retort when Steve somehow slides down his body, actually looking smooth and graceful as he folds to his knees in front of him, and kisses Bucky’s stomach above his sleep pants. Bucky makes a weird strangled noise instead because his brain cannot compute.

“Might want to put the coffee cup down, Buck. If you spill hot coffee all over me, this is going to end quickly and not in a fun way.”

Bucky puts the coffee mug down on the counter behind him without looking. It’s empty enough that none of it sloshes over even though he admittedly was not very gentle.

Steve smiles up at him, and he’s definitely laughing at him. “Punk,” Bucky says, but it comes out fond, especially since one of his hands has found its way into Steve’s hair and is kind of petting him.

“Jerk,” Steve replies, and it feels kind of normal, up until his hands slide down, taking Bucky’s pants with them. Bucky was not wearing underwear, so now Steve’s face is right there in front of Bucky’s cock, which is definitely taking a marked interest in the proceedings.

Bucky and Steve have known each other since they were seven and six respectively, and they have played a sport for just as long. There was plenty of casual nudity in locker rooms and nothing about that environment that can be construed as sexual – in theory, sure, but in practice they smell of sweat in a very gross way – but this is decidedly different. Even if their new arrangement is casual, there is no way not to feel kind of overwhelmed at your best friend staring at you dick like he’d like to get his mouth on it. Bucky could never have prepared for this moment, even in his darker moments when he thought about it vividly, but for Steve, it seems like nothing is unplanned about this. Steve is looking up at him through his stupidly long, beautiful eyelashes and licking his lips and he is absolutely doing it to get Bucky riled up and it’s working.

“Hands on the counter, Bucky. I don’t like my hair being pulled,” Steve says, staring at him until Bucky removes his hand from where he was still half-heartedly petting Steve’s hair. He grips the edge of the counter, cool marble digging into his palms where he grips too tight.

“Good,” Steve responds, and Bucky tries not to react to the praise too obviously or Steve will absolutely exploit that. Maybe Steve noticed anyway, or maybe he’s just always had Bucky’s number, because he continues and Bucky knew Steve could curse a blue streak, but he never knew that Steve had a penchant for dirty talk that Bucky can definitely appreciate.

“Yeah, you like being good. Bet you also like your hair played with, huh? It’s long enough that I could run my hands through it, get a handful and just pull, and you’d go wherever I put you, wouldn’t you?”

Steve is saying all this right next to Bucky’s dick and he can feel the warm breath irregularly brushing across the head and it’s nowhere near enough but it is something and if Steve doesn’t get his mouth on him, Bucky is going to go insane.

“Mmm, yeah. Later though. Wanna taste you, Buck. Keep your hands on the counter,” Steve says, and that’s the only warning he gets before Steve is licking over the tip of his dick and Bucky actually whines. He’s not proud of it, though Steve is obviously very smug about it, and Bucky should not find that little shit smirking while he runs his tongue under Bucky’s cock as hot as he does.

Steve is using his hand at the base, the other one pressing Bucky’s hip back into the counter, and the coordination between his hand and his mouth is amazing. There’s a stickhandling joke somewhere in Bucky’s head, he just can’t find the words right now. He tends to go a little dumb and nonverbal where his dick is involved, but usually not this quickly, but leave it to Steve to be an overachiever.

Bucky gets lost in the feeling of Steve licking at him, tracing the thick vein on the underside of his cock and the flare of the head and back again, flattening and pointing his tongue in turn so Bucky never knows exactly what he’s going to feel. Which is why it comes as such a surprise when Steve finally takes the head of his cock in his mouth and sucks.

Bucky nearly shouts, surprised by just how good it feels. He curls over Steve, hands still gripping the counter because Steve told him to, but arching towards him with the rest of his body. Steve’s grip on his hip keeps him in place, and the casual strength is really doing it for him. Steve is in charge here, and Bucky is just along for the ride. He’s just here for whatever Steve wants to give him because Bucky doesn’t think there’s anything Steve could ask for that he would refuse.

Steve pulls off and there’s a line of drool still connecting Bucky’s cock to his obscenely red mouth for a second before Steve slaps him on the ass and wipes the back of his hand across his face.

“C’mon, up on the island. Want you to come with me inside you.”

“You live in an apartment, it’s not that far to a bedroom.”

“Well, I don’t want to fuck you in the bedroom, I want to fuck you on my kitchen island. It seems like the perfect height that I can lay you could across it and fuck into you still standing. The bed’s too low. You got a problem with that?”

Bucky swallows. There’s something about Steve matter-of-factly laying out his plan for fucking Bucky logically and succinctly that he wasn’t prepared to like this much. “No,” Bucky replies, taking a few steps to cross from the counter to the island and pushing himself up so he’s facing Steve. He slowly lays back, shivering a bit as the cool marble touches his lower back as he props himself up to watch Steve. He’s palming himself through tight navy boxer briefs that are hiding absolutely nothing and there better be a next time where Bucky gets to put his mouth on that.

“You are my bro, but you better have a condom,” Bucky says because he wants Steve’s cock in him and they may get tested regularly, but they’re going to his ma’s house with both their families and he does not need to be thinking about Steve’s come leaking out of him while he helps his ma peel the potatoes for tomorrow.

“That and lube.” Steve smirks. “I’m sure there’s probably some sort of substitute in a kitchen, but it seems messy.”

“Like fucking on your kitchen island isn’t going to get messy?”

“Well, I don’t think ants are attracted to lube at least.”

“That would be a nightmare, it’s true,” Bucky concedes.

Steve’s trying not to look amused, but he’s never been good at controlling his face. It got him in a lot of trouble as a kid, especially when he was ninety pounds of _fight me_ with zero self-preservation skills. “Are you gonna stop being a brat and let me get on with it now or…?”

“No one is stopping you, pal.”

Steve crosses the small space to stand between Bucky’s legs where they’re draped off the side of the island. He leans in like he’s going to kiss him but stops just short and actually asks if it’s okay.

“‘Is it okay if I kiss you?’ Are you kidding me, dude, what do you think this is _Pretty Woman_?”

“Did you just compare yourself to a hooker? You into role play, Bucky? I think we’d have to negotiate that, but I could be into it.”

Bucky flushes and bites out, “Oh my God, just fuck me already.”

“That’s something we’re coming back to for sure,” Steve says, smirking, and when did he get this smooth because Bucky watched him fumble speaking to a single person he thought was pretty for the entirety of high school, but now he’s somehow slicked up a finger and is working it inside Bucky like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Steve is using one finger to slowly fuck in and out of Bucky’s ass and it’s so much better than when Bucky does it himself, wrist twisted at an awkward angle and not able to get the right spot for very long. Steve, though, he moved around a bit until Bucky gasped and now he’s targeting his prostate as he adds a second and then third finger. He’s nearly shaking from so much stimulation and he wants to hold off until Steve’s dick is inside him before he comes, but that’s not going to be a possibility much longer.

“Fuck, Steve, please,” Bucky pleads.

“Hey, I know it’s been a while, I don’t want to hurt you, Buck,” Steve says, falsely sweet, the fucker. He probably is concerned and knows that Bucky would hate that more, but he’s still being an asshole.

“Fuck you, how are you this much of a ass when you’re about to have sex? Your slightly above average dick is not going to break me.”

“Slightly above average?” Steve pouts.

“I am not praising your giant dick until it is actually _in me_ , get with the program Rogers.”

“You’re not making the play, Barnes. What if I had other plans? We’re in the kitchen after all, I could just eat you out until it’s time to go, make you wait until tonight.”

“Don’t you dare. Fucking _fuck me_ already,” Bucky hisses, using his legs to wrap around Steve’s waist and pull him in, and he can feel when Steve’s cock gives an interested twitch in the proceedings. Yeah, Bucky has thick, powerful thighs even for a hockey player, Steve better appreciate them.

“Okay,” Steve says, and finally he’s a little breathy, that veneer of control cracking a little.

Good. Bucky wants to know that he’s affecting Steve just as much as Steve is affecting him.

Steve kissing him languid and deep, but cuts it off rather quickly to say, “Lay back on the counter, Bucky. Hold the edges.”

“I’m starting to think you actually want to tie me up so I can’t move my hands,” Bucky teases, but does as he’s told.

“Can’t during the season, even if we’re careful. Don’t want you to accidentally get hurt,” Steve says, and he’s rolling the condom on and pushing in slow and inexorably.

Bucky barely resists throwing his head back and cracking it on the marble, though it’s what he really wants to do. Steve feels huge and amazing inside him and Bucky wants more, but Steve is sweet and staying absolutely still buried deep inside him.

“C’mon, punk, I’m good, I’m so good, _move._ ”

Steve has the sense not to ask Bucky if he’s sure, just starts thrusting shallowly in and out, and when it’s clear that the only pain Bucky is suffering is not getting the drilling he wants, he starts pulling out further and thrusting a little harder. Steve is built though and he can do better, he’s still holding back, and that’s not what Bucky wants. He still has three whole days off, he wants to be nailed to this stupid kitchen island.

“Harder, Steve, c’mon, I want it, wanna feel it. You gonna give it to me?”

Steve grunts and uses his left hand to pull Bucky’s right leg from his waist and prop it on his shoulder. “You asked for it, Buck,” he says, and thrusts fast, deep, and hard.

Bucky may actually need to hold the edges of the island, his sweat slick against the marble as Steve thrusts in and in and in, and all Bucky can do is hold on and enjoy the ride as Steve adjusts and brushes his prostate every time.

Bucky is going to go crazy if Steve doesn’t touch him soon. Steve told him to hold on, and Bucky feels like he almost needs to now that Steve is really going for it, like if he wasn’t holding on, he might fly apart.

“Touch me, Steve, please, I’m so close, I just need a little more– ah!”

Steve cuts him off by thumbing over his dick, spreading precome around the head and then down the shaft until he’s satisfied enough to wrap his whole hand around him and stroke.

“Come on, Bucky, I’m close too, wanna feel you come on my cock,” Steve says, voice low and raspy as he mouths at Bucky’s neck under his ear, careful enough not to leave a mark.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bucky says, and comes.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it, God, you feel so good,” Steve says, and keeps fucking Bucky through his own orgasm until they’re both oversensitive.

Steve ties off the condom and throws it in the trash can under the sink in the island, nudging Bucky’s legs to the side to do so. When he stands, he slaps Bucky on the hip and urges him up.

“Go shower,” Steve says. “I’ll make eggs.”

“And toast?”

“Whole grain, only a little jam. Stop pouting at me, we’re about to have a huge meal tomorrow. Do you ever stick to your diet plan when I’m not around?”

“I have self-control, Steven, I just also know how to have fun.”

“Is spending forty minutes on your hair fun? Because I’m gonna be able to shower and have a full English breakfast ready before you’re done primping.”

Bucky grins. “You already said you like my hair, no take backs now.”

He turns to go to the guest room to shower because he really does need time to make sure that his hair is nice. Not everyone can look good with it just lightly slicked back like Steve, and Bucky likes his flow. His hair isn’t even the longest on the Flyers, not by a long shot, and Matty definitely spends more time on his hair than Bucky does.

Bucky comes back thirty-six minutes after his shower, and Steve is finishing up some sort of egg and spinach scramble. His hair is a little damp because he never dries it like an idiot, and it ends up all fluffy when it air dries. It looks cute and ridiculously soft and Bucky wants to touch it, which is probably not bros. The time for hair petting has passed, Bucky, get it together.

“How long until you think we get kicked out of the kitchen this year?” Bucky asks Steve around a mouthful of eggs.

“Not deliberately trying to get kicked out or with effort?”

“With effort I could get bounced so fast, I wanna bet on how long on our best behavior. I bet I can last at least half an hour longer than you.”

“No way, you’re hopeless in the kitchen. At least mama taught me how to boil water. Winnie couldn’t even get you to do that right. All you can do is stick it in the oven and hope. I’m definitely lasting longer.”

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah, well at least I didn’t catch a spatula on fire leaving it too close to the stove.”

“That was one time!”

“Uh-huh, one time with a spatula. You’ve caught several other things on fire, too. Besides food, there’s oven mitts, towels–”

“Shut up,” Steve groans, then perks up. “Fine, let’s make it interesting: whoever gets kicked out of the kitchen first gives the winner a blowjob.”

“You’re on,” Bucky says, and flicks a piece of tomato at Steve’s face.

~*~

Somehow Bucky forgot that Steve’s a cheating cheater who cheats.

“You never said anything about getting each other kicked out of the kitchen. Also, if you’re not cheating, you’re not trying,” Steve placidly replies when Bucky tells him so.

“Said like a fucking center. That is such a stupid ass quote and you know I hate it. There are rules for a reason,” Bucky snaps.

“Said like a defenseman.”

“At least I have integrity.”

“So no plans of backing out of the bet?”

“Fuck you, take your pants off.”

“That is the least sexy and most aggressive start to a blow job I’ve ever had,” Steve says, but he’s still taking off his pants.

“Yeah, well it seems like your dick likes aggressive, Rogers.”

Steve flushes, and it looks ridiculous with his stupid, half-undone khakis – seriously, who wears khakis now, especially the day before Thanksgiving, not even Thanksgiving proper. How he can simultaneously be such a boy scout and such a little shit at the same time is astounding.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to retort, but Bucky doesn’t give him a chance, just herds him towards the closest piece of furniture – the breakfast table – and shoves Steve into one of the chairs before fetching a pillow from the couch. Bucky isn’t fucking with his knees, not even to prove a point.

He returns with the pillow, throwing it to the ground at Steve’s feet and kneeling. He looks up at Steve challengingly and fights a smile seeing Steve’s eyes widen and his dick twitch. Yeah, he definitely likes it when Bucky’s a little aggressive.

“I thought I told you to take your pants off,” Bucky says.

Steve barely lifts his hips from the chair to shove his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh so Bucky can get to his dick properly. He’s already hard enough that the tip of his cock is visible, and Bucky uses his hand to stroke Steve’s dick a few times before holding him steady so he can lap at the tip. Steve’s hands go to his head immediately, fingers gently clutching at his hair, not pulling, just there.

“Shit, Bucky,” Steve groans, pushing into the contact as much as Bucky’s other hand on his hip will allow at the same time that he seems oversensitive and ready to pull away. Huh, seems like uncut guys might really be more sensitive there. Noted. “I was right about your hair though, wasn’t I? You like having it played with, don’t you?”

Bucky pulls back slightly. “Don’t be such a dick about it when I’m literally holding your dick,” he says. “Also, that’s not even that kinky, what’s got you so worked up about my hair?”

“Mmm, it’s more about what I can do with it. You seemed pretty into it when I said I could use it to boss you around. I just wanna make you feel good, Bucky, and if that includes me using your hair to put you where I want you, then I’m all for it. I think you are too.”

He says it like a statement, the cocky son of a bitch. But he’s not wrong, and Steve wouldn’t believe him if he tried denying it.

“Yeah, punk, I like to have my hair pulled and be bossed around and called dirty names in bed, are you happy now?”

Steve weaves one of his hands firmly into Bucky’s hair, his giant palm cupping the back of Bucky’s head just above his neck and fingers clutching so Bucky has to look up at him. “I will be when you get back to actually sucking my dick.”

“Asshole,” Bucky mutters, but takes the head of Steve’s dick back into his mouth, tonguing at where his foreskin is pulled back under the head, avoiding the tip for now.

Steve makes a low noise and pulls Bucky’s hair tentatively. Bucky moans because it feels good and he wants Steve to know that he is one-hundred percent on board with this, and with Steve pulling harder.

“Fuck, Bucky, just like that. God, your mouth, you feel so good.”

Okay, that’s a start, but Bucky’s known Steve basically their entire lives, and he’s holding back. He’s being _polite_. But Bucky likes Steve, and underneath all that aw-shucks politeness his mama drilled into him, he’s an asshole. Yeah, he has principles and believes in people being nice to each other and trying to save the environment and whatever, but he’s also a grade-A asshole. Bucky doesn’t want this polite, surface version of Steve, he wants all of him.

Bucky pulls off again, though Steve’s hand does tighten in his hair as he tries to keep him there for a second before loosening his grip again. Honestly, he could have gotten back into the groove if Steve had just held him there instead of having to talk about it.

“Lighten up, Steve,” Bucky says, and Steve starts to pull his hand away because he’s a dumbass who takes everything too literally. Bucky uses the hand that was on Steve’s hip to grab Steve’s wrist and guide his hand back to his hair. “Not literally, punk. I already told you I like my hair pulled. In fact, I’d like it if you pulled _harder_ . You’re holding back, and not just physically. I know you, and you can really have a mouth on you, and I’ve already told you I want that. _I like that_. I’d like you to talk shit and push me around when we do this. You’re not gonna hurt me, I promise.”

“I don’t want to go too far,” Steve says.

“You won’t. You're my friend, Steve, I know that whatever you say or do now, it’s because I asked you to. And you’d stop if I asked you to, too.”

“Of course!”

“Calm down, big guy, no need to get worked up. Well, not about whatever perceived slight against me you’re imagining, at least,” Bucky says, stroking Steve’s dick where he’s still got a hand on him.

“Jerk,” Steve replies, but the hand on his head clutches at his hair for real this time, tight and stinging beautifully, and Bucky’s mouth falls open on a sigh rather than a retort.

Steve’s thumb brushes his bottom lip, the rest of his hand cupping Bucky’s chin and tilting his face to look up at Steve.

There’s a moment where Steve just keeps him there, hands tight in his hair and steady on his chin, and it should be awkward, Bucky is on the floor in front of Steve who is still half wearing pants with just his dick out, but instead, it’s just intense. Steve stares at him a few moments before nodding and drops his reservations along with his shoulders.

He runs his thumb over Bucky’s lip one more time, firmer this time, so Bucky can feel his skin pulling to one side as he does.

“You’re gagging for it, aren’t you?” Steve says, and there’s still a little tentativeness in his face and voice, an underlying current of _is this okay?_

Bucky tries to answer that underlying question too with an emphatic and – potentially embarrassing if this was anyone else – breathy, “Yeah.”

“Go ahead, suck my dick,” Steve says, more confident now, and God, his voice sounds like sex.

Steve yanks him forward by the hair, and Bucky whimpers with it. Yes, this is just what he wanted, and Steve is giving it to him while also visibly enjoying himself. It’s everything Bucky could have hoped for.

He takes Steve back into his mouth, sucking lightly and swirling his tongue around the head without directly touching the tip of Steve’s cock. Steve’s hand moves from his chin to his cheek, like he wants to feel himself through Bucky’s skin.

“That’s why you flushed so pretty when we were talking about _Pretty Woman_. You were thinking of me calling you a whore.”

Bucky hums and sucks a little harder. Positive reinforcement is important.

“Yeah, you’re a pretty little cocksucker.”

Bucky can’t keep the most desperate moan he thinks he’s ever heard, let alone made himself, slip out at Steve’s words. Man, positive reinforcement pays off quickly. He presses the heel of his palm against his dick through his pants, and thinking about the picture they must make, with Bucky fully clothed and Steve’s only shoving his pants down far enough for him to get his dick out.

“Mmm, is that what you wanted me to call you? ‘Cause you are a beautiful cocksucker, Buck,” Steve croons. “I mean, look at you, trying not to get off to having my cock in your mouth. Just ‘cause I won the bet doesn’t mean you don’t get to have any fun. You can touch yourself, c’mon, show me how much you love having my cock in your mouth.”

Bucky fumbles with the button and zipper on his jeans one handed until he can pull his dick out, and he’s not going to last long like this, with Steve’s hand pulling at his hair and him muttering sweet filth about Bucky to him. He focuses on the tip now, tonguing Steve’s slit and laving at his foreskin, wanting to make this as good for Steve as possible before Bucky comes because he knows he’s gonna lose all technique for several minutes after that.

“Shit, Bucky. _Fuck_. You’re gonna make me come,” Steve pants. He uses his grip on Bucky’s hair to pull him back, and Bucky whimpers a bit, trying to get his mouth back on Steve’s dick until Steve’s hand leaves his cheek to wrap around Bucky’s hand where it’s over his dick and jack him off until he’s coming over Bucky’s face.

Bucky comes not long after.

“Was that okay?”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah,” he rasps, like – well, like he’s been sucking dick. “That was perfect, Steve.”

Bucky was right – this is a fucking terrible idea. That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to do it anyway, though.


	2. Game 2: December 23, PHI @ NYR (1-3)

The Flyers next play the Rangers in New York right before the Christmas break, which is fortunate because it means that Bucky does not have to make a quick turn around flight after a game to go home, because his job literally dropped him off on the doorstep. It’s like the universe has given him a gift of not having to deal with the hellscape that is airports right before a major holiday, and not even a holiday Bucky really celebrates. He and Steve made a pact at ages ten and nine that they would share holidays as much as possible, though at that age it was definitely about the gifts. Now it’s just nice to have those understandings of each other’s traditions, even if Steve always eats way too much challah and doesn’t leave near enough to make French toast the morning after.

Hanukkah was early this year, beginning of December, so he’s already missed it. Bucky is literally hardly seeing his parents on this trip, just for dinner before the game and once before he leaves. He’s basically crashing at Steve’s for Christmas Eve and doing Christmas with him and Sarah before he has to be back for a game on the twenty-seventh. He would have expected his ma to protest more, but now that he’s thinking about it, his parents are probably glad they can foist him off on Steve. They had to deal with years of him being grumpy from long bus trips over weekends, and the Flyers have been on a road trip that’s had them play Nashville, St. Louis, Minnesota, Columbus, Chicago, Detroit, and Buffalo in twelve days. New York is their last stop, and Bucky knows that he is undoubtedly reaching a level of bitchy bordering on intolerable. Hopefully Steve’s dick can snap him out of it because he’s getting tired of his own shit at this point, and Sarah doesn’t deserve him ruining Christmas.

Steve could deal. He made Bucky deal with him and his ridiculous righteous temper all the time, and Steve’s bullshit is much more likely to get one or both of them punched than Bucky’s.

~*~

Bucky has a good dinner with his parents, even if he has to request the blandest meal on the menu. Plain grilled chicken, a shit ton of pasta, and broccoli, dinner of champions. His dad compliments his goal from a few games ago while his ma complains that he’s getting too skinny, though he’s kept on a good portion of his weight considering how easy it is for him to drop pounds. None of his sisters have done anything warranting a drawn out parent recap/rant. It’s good.

The game, on the other hand, is not good. The Rangers are out for revenge. 

Getting shut out sucks, and getting shut out by a divisional rival sucks balls, Bucky knows, but really, it was a month ago, and Bucky is not having fun getting slammed into the boards at any given opportunity. Just because he can take a hit and dish ‘em out doesn’t mean that he isn’t acutely aware that he’s gonna be one big bruise after this game.

At least the refs are calling some of the late hits, so the Flyers have several power plays. Bucky is at the right point on the second unit, which is great because it gets him more ice time and scoring opportunities. The downside is that he’s usually matched up against Steve playing on the penalty kill.

Any other time, the heated determination and sheer skill Steve displays in disrupting every play the Flyers try to make would be hot, except for the fact that it is the Flyers and he is directly impeding Bucky and his team’s progress.

Literally, Steve is probably responsible for blocking at least three of Bucky’s shots, which is stupid because he’s a fucking forward, he shouldn’t be so good at it. Also, Bucky is firing slapshots from the point, and that shit had to hurt without full goalie padding.

Steve just smiles ferociously and blocks another shot. It rebounds towards one of his teammates, who chips it past his D-partner, EJ, and Steve is off. Bucky skates back, but he can only cut off the passing lane to another Ranger that’s in the zone, and Steve scores without passing at all. EJ slams his stick against the goal and Smithy doesn’t even flinch from his murderous goalie thousand yard stare. Bucky gets the feeling.

Steve really just scored a shorthanded goal against the Flyers while Bucky was on the ice.

 _Motherfucker_.

~*~

The Rangers win and Steve’s shorthanded goal ends up being the game-winner, and Bucky’s sour mood turns bitter. He still meets Steve outside of the visitors’ locker room, they promised each other after all, but he knows that he’s being unfairly sullen and quiet. Steve huffs, but doesn’t push it as he guides Bucky to his car.

Bucky fiddles with Steve’s radio, trying to find something suitable for his mood, but unfortunately he’s in such a mood that he doesn’t feel like anything fits. He grumbles when Steve gently smacks his hands away and turns it to something dumb, but at least he plays it quietly.

“Dude, I was not this bitchy after I lost to you last month.”

“You also hadn’t been on the road for two weeks,” Bucky snaps.

“I know you hate the road, but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. And you can’t be mad about the goal,” Steve replies calmly.

“Fuck, I know, you think I like getting this pissed off? I don’t. I would have taken the same chance if I were you, no questions asked, I know I can’t hold that against you. I’m just… mad at myself. I know, hockey is a team sport, blah blah blah. But I was the defense out on the _powerplay_ and you got past me. I know I need to let it go, but… I need some help getting out of my head.”

Steve nods. “I can do that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The rest of the short car ride passes in silence, and then they’re pulling into the same spot in the same garage as before. Steve pulls out their suitcases and they wheel them to his door in silence. They go through the ritual of toeing off their shoes and Steve dropping his keys in the dish near the door, but then Steve is roughly kissing him, lips firm and stubble scraping against Bucky’s chin.

Bucky kisses back just as fiercely, pulling Steve’s lower lip into his mouth and biting. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but the way Steve moans into it makes Bucky think Steve wouldn’t mind if he had, and that’s enough to make Bucky want to speed this up, pushing at Steve’s jacket and shoulders until Steve finally shrugs to help get it off.

Steve doesn’t break the kiss as he tosses his jacket towards his breakfast table and tugs Bucky’s jacket off to do the same.

Steve pulls back for more than just a quick breath of air when Bucky starts trying to pull him towards the couch.

“C’mon, it’s late, we’re probably gonna pass out right after, and I don’t want to have to move. You can sleep here after, it’s not like we haven’t shared before.”

“Fine,” Bucky replies, and maybe it’s still a little short and snappish, but he’s getting there.

Steve sighs, probably just as exasperated with how much of a bitch Bucky is being as Bucky is, but leads him to his bedroom anyway. He starts unbuttoning his dress shirt and Bucky does the same, wanting to get his hands and mouth back on Steve as fast as possible.

“What do you want?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head quickly. “I don’t want to decide. I want you to,” Bucky replies.

Steve hums consideringly, dropping his cufflinks on top of his dresser and his shirt into the hamper. “Not too much we can do. I don’t want you to be squirming around on Christmas with my mama because your ass is sore, and with the mood you’re in, I don’t think you want slow and gentle.”

Bucky grimaces because no, that doesn’t sound particularly good to him right now. Steve laughs. Bucky throws his shirt at his face.

Steve catches it and folds it then sets it on his dresser. “Yeah, sure, you want me to decide,” Steve says sarcastically. “You’ve got too many opinions for me to completely call the shots.”

“Punk,” Bucky mutters, shucking his pants and socks.

Steve does the same, and man, it is unfairly hot for him to be standing there in tight navy boxer briefs asking, “So what do you want, Bucky?”

“I already told you, I don’t want to decide.”

“Okay, I can make the final decision, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something you want in the process. Or other things you don’t want. You don’t want slow and gentle, fine. Then do you want me to hold you down, or do you want to fight for it, or something else?”

Bucky clenches his jaw.

That doesn’t seem to be enough for Steve, who advances on him and pushes Bucky towards the bed. Bucky stumbles backwards but catches himself before he falls back onto it. He growls and shoves Steve back.

Steve smiles, smug and savage. “You wanna fight, Bucky? You always said it was me, I was the fighter, and yeah, I may have started them, but don’t pretend like you didn’t like ending them.”

“God, you’ve always been such a cocky little shit.”

“You like it.”

“Probably ‘cause I grew up with you. You tricked me into thinking being an arrogant asshole was hot.”

Steve smirks. “Never said anything about it being hot, just that you liked it. You hot for me baby?”

“Fuck off,” Bucky spits, though it’s probably ruined by the blush he can feel working its way across his face. He tries to shove at Steve again, but he just catches Bucky’s wrists and uses them to push Bucky back on the bed, kneeling over him.

Before Steve can pin his wrists to the bed, Bucky wrenches his right hand free, yanking his left hand still caught in Steve’s grip to throw him off balance enough that Bucky can grab him by the neck and roughly drag him down.

He’s biting at Steve’s lips as he swings his right leg up and over to flip them before Steve realizes what’s happening, and then Bucky is straddling his lap.

“Got you.”

“That’s what you think,” Steve says, and surges up so fast that Bucky clasps onto his hips with his thighs, afraid Steve is going to dump him right off the bed on accident. They haven’t wrestled like this since they were kids, and he wouldn’t put it past Steve to underestimate the strength he has now compared to when he was barely a hundred pounds and trying to pin Bucky on the floor. As soon as he’s clamped down, Steve uses Bucky’s grip to flip them over again, dropping his not inconsiderable weight onto Bucky.

“Oof, you weigh a ton.”

“You really know how to flatter a guy, Buck.”

Steve slides Bucky’s arms above his head with his grip on his wrists and Bucky lets him transfer them to one of his big hands. Bucky could break free whenever he wants to – him and Steve are pretty evenly matched now – but he feels more settled after the wrestling already, and he wants to see what Steve decides. Once Steve is sure that Bucky is staying in place, he braces a fraction of his weight on the arm holding Bucky’s above his head, but he’s still surrounding Bucky everywhere, a comforting weight. He brings his other hand to Bucky’s hair and starts grinding down, their dicks rubbing together through two layers of fabric and chests brushing at the same time that he grabs a fistful of Bucky’s hair and jerks his head back.

“This what you needed, hmm? Get all bitchy when you don’t get enough dick?”

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky whines, and grinds up to meet where Steve is thrusting against him.

“Yeah, I got you, baby. Know you’d like to get fucked or suck my cock – God, you’re such a good little cocksucker – but you can get off from just this, can’t you?”

Bucky flushes and moans. After he convinced Steve that he really wanted it and wasn’t going to hold what Steve said to him in bed against him, Steve had taken to dirty talk like a fish to water, especially once he figured out just how much Bucky truly likes the filthy shit he says. Bucky may have moaned particularly loud when Steve used Bucky’s hair to hold him in place sucking his dick and called him a _pretty little cocksucker_ , and Steve definitely hasn’t forgotten that.

God, they’re rutting like teenagers, and Steve is muttering filthy shit into Bucky’s ear and gently nipping and mouthing at the spot just below it, and the combination of them being half clothed and Steve rambling about how desperate they both are to get off shouldn’t be so hot, but it is. Bucky’s underwear is getting wet and sticky where he’s leaking into it, and it’s probably objectively pretty gross, but with Steve grinding against him, he doesn’t care. 

“Bet I don’t even have to get your underwear off, bet you can make a mess right there in your shorts you like it so much. God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Steve, fuck–”

“Yeah, I’m gonna get you there quick, baby, don’t worry. I can tease you some other time,” Steve promises, and his hand is leaving Bucky’s hair and he wants to whine at the loss, but then Steve’s fingers are drawing him out of his boxer briefs and lining up his dick with Steve’s and using his giant hand to jack them both off. He can feel the smooth heat of Steve’s cock moving against his contrasting with the way Steve’s knuckles are brushing across Bucky’s abs where they’ve just barely made enough room for Steve’s arm between them. 

“Steve, Stevie, please, fuck, I wanna come, make me come, Stevie, please,” Bucky babbles.

Each time Bucky pants, his chest drags against Steve’s, making them feel impossibly close. Bucky is surrounded by Steve’s weight in a way that is comforting and suffocating all at once and he can’t do anything but lay there and take what Steve gives him. He’s making tiny noises, low whimpers when Steve slides his hand over them both and keening whines when he thumbs over the head of Bucky’s cock. He’s already feeling blissed out on physical sensation alone, but Steve just ratchets it up further, murmuring shit like, _you’re so desperate for it, aren’t you, Bucky? Such a good slut for me, Bucky_ that makes Bucky moan and instinctively try to thrust against Steve even with his limited leverage.

“Mm, you asked me to make you come, Bucky, you didn’t say anything about rutting against me. No take-backs now, baby, if that’s what you wanted, you should have said. No, you’re just gonna take what I give you.”

All that skin pressed up against him and Steve’s hand working both of their dicks at the same time and Steve’s fucking beautiful, filthy mouth is enough that it is over fairly quickly, Bucky gasping through his orgasm and the sight of his come between Steve’s fingers, coating Steve’s dick. Bucky is gratified that it only takes Steve a few strokes after Bucky’s tipped over the edge for Steve to come himself – and damn if the sight of Steve jacking himself off covered in Bucky’s come isn’t a sight that makes Bucky wish he could be ready for round two immediately.

Steve pants above him and slowly releases Bucky’s wrists from his grip. After a few moments, he slides off the edge of the bed and tugs at Bucky’s ankle playfully, reminiscent of when Sarah would drop him off at the Barneses’ house for the day before Bucky was awake and Steve would badger him into getting out of bed at nine instead of noon.

“C’mon Bucky, gotta clean up and brush our teeth. I ain’t letting you make me do all the work, lazy ass.”

Bucky flings his arm over his face, playing up his exasperation. “Ugh, do I even want to sleep here? Are you gonna wake me up at six in the morning and make me do sun salutations with you before making kale smoothies?”

Steve just tugs a bit harder on his ankle and says, “You can always sleep in the guest room, but I know you’re a cuddler, don’t even front.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re doing me a big favor, Rogers. Not like you don’t get off on being the big spoon. Fine,” Bucky says, clambering up to grab his toiletries from his suitcase still in the hall and joining Steve in his ensuite.

Steve is already brushing his teeth and almost laughs toothpaste all over the place when Bucky says, “If you wake me up before nine in the morning on a holiday, you better do it with a blowjob.”

~*~

Steve does wake him up with a blowjob, but he mercifully waits until nine-fifteen to do so. Bucky has just enough time to return the favor in kind before they have to get ready to go to Sarah’s apartment a few blocks over. Bucky goes to the guest bedroom to shower because if he showers with Steve, they’re never going to make it on time. Not touching Steve when he is naked and wet is a level of self-restraint that Bucky does not possess.

They load up the car with gifts from Steve’s closet and Bucky’s suitcase and drive to Sarah’s that afternoon. She greets them both with a hug and kiss on the cheek, just like she always has. Bucky was afraid that somehow she would look at them and know that something was up. Bucky loves his parents, but they’ve always had to divide their attention between four children, so it’s easier for him to slip something past them whereas Sarah seems to have a unique knack for knowing almost everything about Steve just from looking at him.

Bucky loves Sarah like his second mother, and unlike his own mother, she does not comment on him being ten pounds down from the start of the season despite his diet and frequent strength-training, which he appreciates. However, she does always comment on how long his hair is getting and Steve’s beard in a way that lets both of them know she’d prefer they had neat, short hair and were clean-shaven. Bucky may love Sarah, but no way is he sacrificing his flow.

“Mama,” Steve whines, because he apparently feels the same way about his beard and immediately reverts back to being nine-years-old in her presence. Bucky snickers and Steve kicks him.

Sarah waves a spoon at him from where she’s mixing something for dinner. “Don’t kick your friend,” she admonishes. “And you have such a nice face, Stevie, I don’t see why you want to hide it. How are you ever gonna get a nice girl or boy with that on your face?”

“I feel like not liking my facial hair should be a deal breaker, Mama.”

“Your dad wanted to grow a beard once, but it itched like crazy when we kissed. I made him shave it.”

“Well, I’m sure some people don’t care. I bet there’s plenty of people who like the way it feels,” Steve retorts and smirks at Bucky. Bucky feels justified in kicking him. Steve’s mama is _right there_.

“Hey! Mama, he kicked me, why aren’t you telling him off?”

“I’m sure James had a very good reason,” Sarah replies and winks at Bucky, who just smiles beautifically because they both like teasing Steve.

“I can’t believe he’s your favorite,” Steve mutters.

“Oh baby, you know I love you, but James saved your ass so much as a kid, I have to love him too. He kept my baby safe,” Sarah says.

“Mama,” Steve whines, because again, he’s basically a child whenever he’s around Sarah. It’s adorable.

“Oh hush and go wash up. I need you two to set the table for dinner. I’m almost done with the gravy and then we’ll eat. I know you boys need to eat a ton and we need to get a move on, we’re heading to church right after.”

“Midnight mass at nine?”

“I am all for tradition, Steve, but I am getting old and midnight is hard. Plus the nine o’clock mass is the latest the children’s choir sings, and you know I love seeing those sweet babies sing.”

“Okay, mama,” Steve says, and he kisses her on the top of her head when he passes her on the way to the bathroom.

The easy affection makes something warm within Bucky. He wants that, Steve brushing by him and kissing him over his hair just because, no intent behind it. He tries not to sigh and splashes cool water on his face when it’s his turn in the bathroom.

He sets the table with Steve, eats with him and his mom, goes to church with them, sleeps on their couch and wakes up to coffee with peppermint creamer and presents the next morning. He feels warm again when Steve smiles at the fancy watercolors and a book of watercolor paper that Bucky got him, and a similar feeling when he unwraps an illustrated, leather-bound box set of _The Lord of the Rings_ , Bucky’s favorite books. Sarah beams and hugs him for the multicolored knit scarf he got her. She wraps it around both her and Bucky’s shoulders and has Steve take a picture of them wrapped up together in front of the tree to text to Bucky’s ma.

His chest feels heavy and full at the same time. Bucky is a part of Steve’s family which he adores and appreciates, but it’s not in that way that he wants and he needs to figure out how to be okay with that before the heaviness pushes out everything else.

He needs to figure out how to let whatever feelings beyond friendship he has for Steve go, but Bucky doesn’t help himself at all when they go back to Steve’s apartment that night. Steve doesn’t fuck him, but he keeps his promise to tease Bucky, using his mouth and hands to keep Bucky riding just on the edge for what feels like hours. Bucky doesn’t even really touch him, dazed after a long, rolling orgasm, just looks up to see Steve stripping his dick above him like some debauched angel before Steve is coming in stripes against Bucky’s chest. He flops down next to Bucky and cuddles into his side despite how gross Bucky must be covered in both of their jizz.

There’s something about it that is slow and gentle and intimate in a way that Bucky doesn’t think he deserves. He slips out of bed once Steve is asleep to clean up a bit and then slides back in, clinging to the edge even when he only wants to cling to Steve. _Because_ he only wants to cling to Steve.

It doesn’t matter in the end. At some point after Bucky fell asleep, he instinctively rolled towards Steve and curled into him like a flower seeking the sun. Steve has an arm thrown over him and their legs are tangled, and it does absolutely nothing to dim the want in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick hockey recap for anyone who wants: in hockey, if your team takes a penalty, the guilty player (or a substitute if it's the goalie) has to go sit in the penalty box for 2-5 minutes and the team has to play down a player (four skaters instead of five). The team that was penalized is then on the penalty kill and is primarily playing defense while the team on the power play has the full amount of players and is primarily playing offense. However, sometimes the team that is on the penalty kill will get an opportunity to score, and if they do, it's called a short-handed goal.
> 
> Flow is a term for longer hair in hockey. There is usually at least one guy on any team's roster who has hair at at least shoulder length, but my prime examples for reference are Erik Karlsson and Sami Niku, though the latter recently cut his off and yes, that does make me kind of sad.


	3. Game 3: January 29, NYR @ PHI (1-2)

A month of distance helps Bucky rein it in a bit. His feelings for Steve are still there, but he feels more prepared to separate those from hooking up with Steve. Spending the bye week with him in what amounts to a sex vacation – or staycation in Steve’s case – feels much more manageable than sleeping together and sharing Christmas with Steve and his ma. No soft holiday shit to emphasize how much Bucky wants.

Unfortunately, the Rangers bye week is the week before the All-Star Game and the Flyers is the week after, so they only have six days together instead of eleven, but they’re going to make the most of it. Bucky didn’t tell anyone besides Steve he was coming to New York, and Steve spent the preceding four days before Bucky came up with his mama so he doesn’t feel guilty and stupidly give up some much needed sex time.

Bucky takes a cab to Steve’s apartment, not wanting to chance them being seen meeting up together and recognized, no matter how slim the likelihood of that is. Steve buzzes him up and let’s Bucky in the door.

He’s only wearing a pair of low-slung basketball shorts. No one can blame Bucky for handjobs in the entryway. It’s not that he’s thirsty, it’s just that Steve is right there and basketball shorts make his dick so easily accessible. Bucky’s jeans are a bit harder to deal with, but they manage.

Steve pulls his shorts back up and goes to the kitchen to wash his hands and make them sandwiches while Bucky drops his suitcase in the guest room and goes to the bathroom to wash up and fix his hair where Steve ran his fingers through it.

Steve chirps him for his hair, but he’s made Bucky’s sandwich with the right amount of mustard and spinach-to-turkey ratio, so Bucky lets it slide. It’s nice. Bucky likes this a lot – him and Steve. They’ve always been best friends, and it’s easy to imagine this is something more than it is.

Bucky has to tell himself not to think about it, and something his ma said about wishes and horses that basically means _it’s no fucking use, Barnes, it ain’t gonna happen_. Bucky’s had to tell himself that a lot lately.

After Bucky finishes his sandwich, he goes to Steve’s living room and powers up the Xbox. He needs to shoot something and forget about useless feelings. He sets multiplayer up for him and Steve to shoot some zombies. He needs a mindless bro activity to remind him that he and Steve and just bros, who have coincidentally also had sex with each other. It probably happens all the time, and Bucky is the only one to make it weird.

Steve flops on the couch, still chewing a bit of his sandwich, and catches the controller easily when Bucky tosses it to him.

From there, it’s a pleasant hour or so of chirping, but Steve is getting twitchy because he’s literally unable to do anything but hockey or draw for more than an hour without getting restless and feeling like he should _do something_. Honestly, Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if half the fights Steve picked when he was a kid was because he was bored and heard someone talk shit and thought it would be fun somehow to get punched.

They finish a round, Bucky getting four more kills than Steve this time, so they’re tied 2-2, and Bucky is content just to play for bragging rights, but Steve says, “How about winner gets to decide what we do?” Steve asks, voice pitched suggestively and grinning smugly. “Or would you lose on purpose?”

Bucky pretends to be scandalized, full on clutching his imaginary pearls and all. “Steven Grant Rogers! Are you suggesting we bet for sexual favors? Why, I never!”

Steve laughs. “You literally blew me because of a bet at Thanksgiving, asshole.”

Bucky waves him off. “I would have blown you anyway, not the point. Also, fuck you, I never lose on purpose. You’re on.”

Thanks to Steve’s reminder about Thanksgiving, Bucky is prepared for Steve to try to cheat and guards his sides from elbows in ticklish spots. After Steve has tried a few times, Bucky uses his foot to slide up the side of Steve’s leg coyly and then jab him in the spot behind his knee, which is sufficiently distracting. Bucky gets seven more kills than Steve this round.

Steve drops his controller and it clatters on his coffee table. Bucky smirks at Steve, who crosses his arms and scowls in response, and it probably says something that Bucky finds even that endearing.

“You cheated!”

“You were trying to poke me in the ribs first,” Bucky points out. “Turnabout’s fair play.”

“I thought you said you hated cliches,” Steve grumbles.

“Nah, just your stupid ones. Mine was fine.”

“Jerk.”

Bucky pokes him in the arm where Steve’s still got them crossed, and – Jesus, his biceps are huge. “Should you really be calling the guy who’s gonna decide what sexual favors you’ve got to do a jerk?”

“Are you actually going to decide sometime today?”

Bucky _tsks_ and says, “So impatient. I should make you wait, Stevie.”

Steve’s arms relax a bit and his lips go from a pout to slightly parted and – _oh_. So that’s an idea that Steve likes.

“Thought you liked calling the play, Stevie? You always were a bossy little shit.”

Steve squirms and tries to make himself small, like he’s trying to shrink back into his thirteen-year-old body before the growth spurt. “I can be, I guess, but I’m flexible. Sometimes it’s nice not to decide.”

Bucky sets his controller on the couch next to him and slides a bit closer to Steve on the couch, hand less than an inch from Steve’s thigh as he leans in and says, “Well, how about this then. For my prize, I want you spread out on the mattress and you’re gonna get me ready to ride you, but that’s all you’re gonna be allowed to touch until you can’t stand it anymore, and then you’re gonna pound me into the mattress. None of that soft shit, Steve, I’ve got a week off after this, and I wanna be _fucked_.”

Steve grins, slow and wide, and leans further into Bucky’s space, breath fanning across his cheek as he murmurs in Bucky’s ear, "Well, that sounds doable." 

"Glad to hear it."

Before Bucky can think of something more to say, Steve springs up from the couch and– 

"Steve! What the hell!" He shouts as he's tossed over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes. At least he's got a nice view. Hockey asses really are spectacular.

"Oh, did you not mean right now? Because I kinda thought the prize was supposed to be cashed in immediately."

Steve tosses him on the bed and Bucky barely bounces on the expensive mattress. He gets his elbows under him with enough time to see Steve stripping his T-shirt off to reveal his ridiculously sculpted chest. Seriously, Bucky understands good glutes and thighs – hell, even abs – from all the skating and balance required for hockey, but Steve’s pecs are insane. Bucky doesn’t think it’s even an exaggeration to call them tits because that’s basically what they are. Bucky wants to bite them.

But first –

“Remember what I said first Steve? Before you pound me into the mattress, I’m gonna ride you till you can’t stand it. How long do you think you can last? I bet it’s not even five minutes before you lose it.”

“What are the terms?” Steve asks because he is a competitive motherfucker.

“Nah, not playing for anything this time, besides pride that is. Now come on, you can touch me to open me up. Better do a thorough job, because that’s all you’re getting for a while. I just want to sit on your cock and ride you for a good while before really going for it.”

Steve’s eyes are wide and dark, and Bucky relishes finding something that affects him so much. He can’t imagine Steve giving up control like this with many people, but he trusts Bucky with this, and he’s going to take it while he can get it.

Bucky rummages around in his bedside table drawer and finds the lube and a condom. He settles back on the bed, spreading his legs and canting his hips up to really give Steve a view. He tosses both of them at Steve where he’s still standing and gaping at Bucky from next to the bed. Steve fumbles but catches both.

“C’mon buddy, get to it.”

Steve climbs onto the bed and knee walks towards where Bucky is settled in the center. He drops the condom and lube to run his hands from Bucky’s knees down his thighs, digging gloriously into the space where Bucky’s thighs meet his ass.

“I could eat you out first,” Steve suggests, hitching Bucky’s hips up further and pulling him closer so Bucky’s legs are around Steve’s waist and his ass is resting on Steve’s thighs. It feels like one word from Bucky and Steve would hitch him up further and go to town. And Bucky will take him up on that sometime during this visit, but he’s not letting Steve weasel out of the bet by tempting him with what would probably be amazing oral sex judging by the hungry look in Steve’s eyes. 

“While I’m sure that would be very enjoyable, I won the bet and I’ve already decided how this is going to go, Steve. If you’re gonna eat me out, I think we’d both like it if you had all the time in the world to go for it, and right now, I want you to open me up so I can ride you. I wanna feel the stretch of you inside me, wanna feel the burn in my thighs as I work your dick inside me.”

“Bucky, shit,” Steve groans, and he goes for the lube because he really does phenomenally with positive reinforcement.

Steve warms some up between his fingers and then he’s sliding two slick fingers in, changing the angle bit by bit until Bucky cries out when he brushes his prostate. Bucky gasps and fists the sheets near his hips, which Steve takes as an invitation to rub against that spot with firm, slow strokes. He pauses and presses in even further occasionally before setting up a new rhythm, never giving away how he’s going to turn Bucky into a whimpering mess next. Bucky is trying not to moan, doesn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction with the competitiveness still thrumming through them both, but the little noises that slip out and hitching breaths probably aren’t any better. And there’s only so much Bucky can take before he’s canting his hips down to meet Steve’s fingers, trying to get just a little bit more.

“Another?” Steve asks teasingly, still pressing against Bucky’s prostate and sending sharp pangs of pleasure through him.

“Fuck you, you know what I want,” Bucky replies, but there’s no bite to it with how breathless he sounds already.

Steve pulls out and adds more lube, but he wastes little time before he pushes three fingers back inside and curls perfectly to hit his prostate again. God, if he keeps doing that, Bucky’s going to come before he gets to do what he really wants to. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Bucky says and Steve pulls his fingers out of him and wipes the excess on his sheets.

Bucky makes a face. “Gross.”

“Like we aren’t about to get so much more on these sheets. Besides, you didn’t say I could touch myself,” Steve smirks, because he loves generally being a little shit. Joke’s on him, it’s his own bed he’s ruining.

Bucky pushes up on his elbows and uses his legs wrapped around Steve’s waist to pull himself up until he is fully seated in his lap. Like this, he’s a few inches taller than Steve rather than the other way around. It’s been over five years since he’s been able to look down at Steve and it makes something fond twist in his chest.

“You want to turn us around, or are you just gonna lay back with your head at the foot of the bed like a heathen?”

“I feel like you don’t know what that word means.”

“Heathen, hooligan, troublemaker, rascal, punk–”

Steve shakes his head like he’s so done with him, but he’s also laughing, so Bucky counts it as a win. Double win when Steve grips where his thighs meet his ass and surges up and twists around so he can drop his head back onto a pillow. He slipped out of Bucky a little in the process and when he flops back and lets go, Bucky sinks back down and can’t help but make a sound at the drag against his insides.

Steve smiles smugly up at him, ruining the angelic image of him with blond hair fanned out around his head. “Better, jerk?”

“Still a punk and a troublemaker,” Bucky replies. “But yeah,” Bucky says, and grinds down slowly, relishing the way Steve tenses underneath him and his fingers twitch like he wants to grab onto Bucky’s hips and hold on for dear life but knows he’s not allowed to. “Better.”

Bucky plants his hands on Steve’s chest – _on his tits_ , he thinks somewhat hysterically – and pulls up before sinking slowly down onto Steve’s dick, loving the stretch and drawing it out to feel that delicious slight burn for a little longer as well as teasing Steve. It’s his turn now to clutch at the sheets and try not to move and give away how good he feels, or maybe just because Bucky told him to be still. The thought sends a shiver through him that has Steve groaning under him and giving an aborted thrust up.

“Fuck, Bucky, please. Quit being a tease.”

“How am I a tease when your dick is literally halfway in my ass?”

“Halfway isn’t– oh shit.”

Bucky sinks down the rest of the way abruptly, feeling Steve’s thick thighs twitching under him.

“All the way? This what you wanted, Stevie?”

“Want you to move, you asshole.”

Bucky just smiles and grinds down until he gets just the right angle to feel amazing. His mouth falls open on a quiet groan and then he’s letting himself get lost in the feeling of being full and getting just the right kind of stimulation on his prostate. It’s all about him and the pleasure that feels like carbonated bubbles flooding his body and Steve’s just along for the ride until he loses that carefully leashed control and decides to go for it.

He digs his knees further into the mattress and bends forward, hands on Steve’s chest still anchoring him as he starts to push up and drop back down, fucking himself on Steve’s dick and hitting that spot that sends pulses of pleasure through him. Bucky’s never tried it before, but he thinks given enough time, he may be able to come without a hand on his cock, just Steve inside him, and thinking about that is enough to push Bucky just a little bit closer.

“Feel so good, Stevie, fuck. Want you to fuck me, c’mon, I need it, I’m so close.”

“Fuck,” Steve says, long and drawn out like Bucky is pulling it from deep inside him, and then his hands are grasping Bucky’s hips and Bucky thinks – _hopes_ – that he’ll have bruises in the shape of Steve’s hands there.

Steve pulls Bucky flush against him and then rolls his hips up, pushing a desperate sound out of him that Bucky didn’t even know he could make. His hands slide up to grasp at Steve’s shoulders, arms resting next to him on the bed, and they feel impossibly close. Bucky has fucked and been fucked by several people and it’s never felt like this, that same comforting suffocating feeling as the last time he was here with Steve back in full force. It stays with him when Steve brings one of his hands from Bucky’s hips to wrap around his back, and then Steve is rolling them, Bucky falling into the cool sheets on the other side of Steve’s huge bed.

Steve is so close, blotting out the room around him. They’re pressed together from the chest down and there’s barely any space for Steve to pull out with how Bucky’s arms are still wrapped around his shoulders and Steve’s is around his back. It’s so much and not enough at the same time.

Steve mouths at his jaw, pressing open mouthed kisses and nipping at the underside. They have six days and nowhere to be, and Bucky doesn’t care if Steve leaves marks – fuck, he _wants_ them. They’ll fade, it doesn’t matter, Bucky just wants whatever Steve will give him.

“Still want me to pound you into the mattress?” Steve murmurs next to his ear, following a tendon down Bucky’s neck with his lips and tongue.

“God, yes,” Bucky groans, pushing his head back into a pillow and arching his neck and back, pushing into Steve above him at the same time that he releases Steve’s arm from beneath him. Steve uses it to push Bucky’s leg up further, propping it on Steve’s shoulder, before using both hands to wrap around his waist and pull Bucky’s hips up just a little bit. He’s making room to really fuck him, and Bucky digs his heel in Steve’s back in anticipation.

“Yeah, I’m gonna give it to you, baby, gonna give it to you real good. Know how much you need it. God, I love how sensitive you are, love seeing you like this, split open on my cock and crazy with it.”

“Steve,” Bucky pleads. “ _Please_.”

“Yeah, Buck, I got you,” Steve replies, and then he’s fucking Bucky hard and fast, just like he asked for it, and Bucky is moaning like a whore, but Steve’s muttering shit like _fuck, yes, so good baby, your ass is amazing, you’re amazing, love how good you take it, the sounds you make Jesus_ so Bucky doesn’t even feel too self-conscious about it.

It doesn’t take him long once he wraps a hand around his dick, jerking himself off quick and rough, trying to time it with Steve’s pace but coming so fast that Bucky can hardly tell what any of his limbs are doing, every nerve focused on his dick and where Steve is still thrusting inside him.

Bucky is useless after, drifting and feeling how he’s getting oversensitive but still on the right side of it feeling good when Steve stills inside him and empties himself in the condom. He slides out and flops down next to Bucky. Well, semi-next to him; their right shoulders are overlapping and Steve has his right arm and leg strewn across him. Steve turns his head to the right so he doesn’t suffocate himself with a pillow and shifts a bit to kiss Bucky’s shoulder. He can feel Steve’s eyes on the side of his face, but there’s not much Bucky can do but doze and bask in the feeling.

Steve wakes him up about an hour later and ushers them both into the shower with only lazy soapy handjobs to distract them before he’s shoving Steve out of the bathroom to do his hair and demanding Steve order them dinner from his favorite thai place because Bucky isn’t cooking and he has a pretty good idea that they’re gonna find plenty to do to burn off those calories.

They do.

The days pass like that – sex-food-video games, wash-rinse-repeat. Steve instructs him on how best to jack him off – long strokes that feel different in Bucky’s hand with Steve’s foreskin and not too much attention on the head until he’s _right_ there, about to fall apart – and Bucky gasps and moans through Steve enthusiastically eating him out – alternating between lapping at his rim and sliding his tongue in as deep as he can in no discernable pattern that drives Bucky insane. He doesn’t have words to tell Steve what to do, but Steve figures it out, adjusting with each noise Bucky makes. There’s at least half a dozen blowjobs but sadly fewer instances of Bucky getting fucked, though his ass probably thanks him because Steve took to the suggestion that Bucky wanted to feel it each time. He really does do well with positive reinforcement.

Sorry Disney World, this is the best vacation Bucky has ever had.

~*~

After almost a straight week with Steve, two weeks between the break and their next game against each other feels like forever. Bucky almost broke down and asked if phone sex was included in the whole friends with benefits thing, but he didn’t want to push it. Even when Bucky was technically in charge, he was always carefully trying to discern what Steve wanted, which wasn’t hard when he telegraphed so much on his face. There’s so much more Bucky wants to do with Steve, but he’s not sure what Steve wants, if Steve wants Bucky to pin him to the mattress and fuck him like he asked Steve to do him, and Bucky isn’t willing to risk disrupting what they have now. As long as Steve wants something with him, Bucky is going to his damnedest to give it to him.

Although, now that he is shoved up against the wall of his apartment with Steve’s tongue in his mouth, he’s got a pretty good idea that Steve is just as hot for it as Bucky is, other potential feelings aside.

“Pants off,” Bucky, well, pants. Having the full focus of two hundred and fifteen pounds of enthusiastic hockey player is a lot, especially when it’s Steve Never-Half-Assed-Anything-In-His-Life Rogers.

“What was it you said when I wanted to fuck in the kitchen? You live in an apartment, Bucky, it’s not too far to a bedroom,” Steve mocks.

“Fuck off,” Bucky retorts, kicking his own shoes and pants off before going for Steve’s belt.

Steve brushes his hands away and undoes his belt and the button of his slacks. He slowly starts pulling down the zipper, staring at Bucky the whole time.

“You so desperate for my cock you want to do it in the entryway, baby? You’d have to be quiet so someone passing in the hall doesn’t hear you, but God, you make the best sounds. Want me to pin you against the wall? Hell, I bet I could even lift you, get those thighs wrapped around my waist and hold you up by your ass.”

Steve roughly grabs one of Bucky’s buttcheeks with his hand before slapping it lightly, but enough that Bucky can hear the crack of Steve’s hand against his skin. They both moan in response.

“Yeah, Steve, c’mon, do it, hold me where you want me, don’t let my feet touch the ground, only you to hold me up,” Bucky rambles, trying to egg Steve on and hopefully working him up at least half as much as Bucky is at the mere idea of being at Steve’s mercy like that. 

Steve shoves his pants down but doesn’t even bother to step out of them, just grabs Bucky by the ass as promised and _lifts_. Bucky’s legs instinctively go around his waist and then it’s just Steve and the wall against his back holding him up.

Bucky moans again, can’t help all the noises that slip out when Steve is hitting all of his buttons in different ways each time they have sex. And Steve just keeps pushing them, muttering filth in his ear like “yeah, you’re such a slut for it, for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? I know you are,” while sliding his dick between Bucky’s cheeks so that Bucky can feel the head of his dick slide against his rim at the same time that his shaft brushes against his perineum. He’s teasing Bucky, nothing inside him and nothing but brief accidental touches to his dick, and it’s hardly anything, but it’s still so good. Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s back and scratches, blunt nails not doing much but Steve groaning and stuttering in response to the slight pain.

Then Steve gives up on slow and teasing and controlled and just ruts faster against him, just chasing his own pleasure, which does something for Bucky. Yeah, Steve would probably jack him off if he was able, but he has to use both hands to hold Bucky up, and besides feeling a little used, Bucky is also getting off on seeing Steve as strong physically as he always has been on the inside, just as much a spitfire and a strong-willed, moral dumbass at six-foot-two as he was at five-foot-four.

Bucky brings one arm to clutch at Steve’s shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles there to try to anchor himself as he brings his other hand to his dick. Even with the pre-come dribbling out, it’s still a little dry but Bucky finds he likes the drag of it, that it fits with the desperation of this moment.

“Yeah, Bucky, fuck, I’m gonna come soon, baby. That’s good, touch yourself, want you to come right here, just me holding you up,” Steve murmurs into the skin next to Bucky’s ear, warm breath and the gentle press of his teeth making Bucky shiver.

As he’s talking, Steve adjusts his grip and moves away from the wall so he’s taking all of Bucky’s weight, and Bucky knows it’s not easy, but he sure makes it look like it is. And what is Bucky supposed to do in the face of all of Steve’s attention focused on him telling him he wants him to come besides do it?

Bucky muffles himself by biting into Steve’s shoulder, careful even now to aim for somewhere that will normally be easily covered. He sinks his teeth in a little harder than he might usually be inclined to based on Steve’s reaction to him clawing at his back, and it seems like a good choice based on how Steve comes against him, his hands digging in so hard where he’s holding him that Bucky is sure he’s gonna have bruises in the shape of Steve’s fingers long after Bucky washes his come away.

Perhaps most impressively, Steve doesn’t drop him. Bucky starts to unwind his legs from where they’re wrapped around Steve’s waist, his thighs aching from clutching at him for so long, and they’re surprisingly coordinated as he gets his feet under him and Steve lowers him to the ground.

Steve hikes his pants up a bit and stumbles towards the kitchen, cleaning up with a damp paper towel. They never even took their shirts off, just unbuttoned them, so it’s easy for Steve to button up his shirt and tuck it into his pants before zipping up and redoing his belt.

Realizing that now makes the whole thing feel less like they couldn’t wait to get their hands on each other and more… illicit. No time, no space, no one to see, no one to know, and Bucky doesn’t really want anyone to know, but now that the moment has passed and Steve is dressed like nothing at all happened, the happiness of being in Steve’s arms is fading into the bitterness of knowing that all of this is temporary, convenient, just bros who happen to also like dudes helping each other out.

He knew coming into this that they wouldn’t have much time tonight; the Rangers have an early flight out, and the only reason Steve was even able to come was because his roommate was willing to cover for him if Steve returned the favor when they were in St. Paul next month. He knows now that Steve only has a few moments to catch his breath, getting himself a glass of water and one for Bucky as well that they share in companionable silence, Bucky wearing just his unbuttoned dress shirt and boxer briefs next to Steve all done up in his suit. He knew what he was getting into and he knows what happens now, but it still feels oddly cheap, Steve getting dressed so quickly to leave, or maybe that’s just Bucky making things more than they were and breaking his own heart.

Steve finishes his water and sets the glass in the sink. Bucky sets his glass on the counter to walk him to the door. Steve hesitates once they’re there, hand jerking towards the door knob before falling back to his side. He leans in, and for a moment Bucky thinks that he’s going to kiss him, but Steve just hugs him with a few back slaps thrown in before leaving to get back to his team’s hotel.

Bucky retreats to his bedroom to rinse off and brush his teeth before crawling into bed. All the other times, they’ve had days together, even spent time with each other’s families half the time, but this time was fast and rough and great in the moment, but it left something in Bucky feeling hollow and aching. The other times, it was too easy to pretend that he meant something more to Steve, that maybe they could be dating and sneaking furtive looks and quickies in because they were in their honeymoon phase and not ready to tell people because they’d wanted to keep it their special thing for a little bit longer. This time it was clear it was just a hook-up, and Bucky knows that – that this has always been just a hook-up, or at least that’s what it should have been, what Steve agreed to – but this is the first time he’s really felt like it is what it is.

Bucky fumbles with his phone, first making sure his alarm is set for practice in the morning, then replying _g’night_ to Steve’s text that he made it back to the hotel okay, and finally flipping to his sad-chill playlist on Spotify and hitting play because he’s feeling maudlin. He sets a sleep timer for 45 minutes because if he’s not asleep before then, that’s as much time as he’s giving himself to be an angsty little shit.

Bucky rolls over and buries his face in a pillow, leaving barely enough room to breathe. He doesn’t want to cry, but as he hears Hozier sing about kissing like real people do, he feels a few tears fall. He doesn’t know how much longer he can do this. In the moment, it feels so good, but afterwards, he just feels like shit.

He doesn’t hear any of the other songs, though it feels like a long time before he’s able to go to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The Flyers are finally boarding the bus for the airport after the stupid West Coast road trip – a week at the beach in California when Philadelphia is still bouncing between the thirties and fifties and raining half the time is great, but going back to Eastern time is a fucking bitch. Every single one of them is tired, which is why it’s such a surprise when Jack bursts out laughing.

“Has Jack finally lost it?” EJ shouts.

“Hey Buck!” Jack yells, and what the fuck, how did Bucky get dragged into this, he just wants to drink his coffee on the way to the airport in peace. “Aren’t you friends with Rogers? He just got into a fight at practice! He took out one of his own teammates for us tonight, what a nice early birthday present!”

“What? Give me that,” Bucky demands.

Steve may be a temperamental asshole, but he’s never fought someone on his team before. He’s definitely  _ wanted to  _ before – Willy Roberts was definitely a dick that Steve wanted to beat up weekly in Juniors – but he hasn’t actually  _ done it _ .

Jack shows him his phone, and sure enough, there’s a grainy picture of Steve, hand fisted in some call-up named Rumlow’s jersey, fist raised high to strike him in the face with force. Steve isn’t like a lot of guys who just know how to protect their thumbs and rely on brute strength. Bucky taught Steve to fight when he was still small and every movement had to be calculated for maximum damage for any effect, and his perfect form now that he’s six-foot-two and two hundred and fifteen pounds is nothing to be laughed at.

Bucky is reading, but it’s the usual bullshit – tempers flared, passionate guys, team’s working it out, blah blah blah. But as much as Steve has a temper, he also knows the time and place, so if Steve beat him up in a public practice, Bucky knows the asshole definitely did something.

Jack snatches his phone back after a minute. It was a short article so Bucky was mostly done with it anyway, and it is the guy’s phone, so it’s not like Bucky can mind.

“I get it,” Jack said. “I played on a team with Rumlow before he got traded and the dude is one hundred percent douchebag. I wish I could have punched him in the face.”

The guys all start talking about the worst teammates they’ve had in the past, usually from juniors and with crazy stories, but Bucky can’t even pay attention because he’s slumping into a seat at the back of the bus and texting Steve.

**Bucky:**

_ What the hell did you do??? _

**Steve:**

_ He was being a raging homophobe and sexist and overall a terrible human being. _

**Bucky:**

_ We play a professional sport for a living, there are unfortunately a lot of those things, why punch this dude now? _

**Steve:**

_ I asked him to stop. He made it personal. _

**Bucky:**

_ Personal how? _

There’s a long time where Bucky is staring at those three little dots indicating Steve is typing. It’s absolutely terrifying for some reason. Steve is a quick texter despite using perfect punctuation and capitalization unless he’s really upset, and simply based on the time this is taking, Steve must be pretty pissed off.

**Steve:**

_ He was talking all this shit about the flyers and when I asked him to stop, he said “oh yeah, you’ve got a friend on the flyers what’s his name your pal your buddy your Bucky” and the way he said it. he was sneering like us being friends was awful and saying stupid shit about your hair and face and then I was just punching him it’s whatever _

Bucky tries not to go cold at that. He takes a sip of lukewarm coffee to try to warm up and do something with his hands. This Rumlow guy doesn’t know him, he was just talking shit, guys do it, and most of them understand that there’s a way to trash talk that does not include being a bigot, so this whole incident says more about Rumlow than it does Bucky. No one outside of his family and Steve actually knows about him being gay, and from what Steve said, he hasn’t shown too much with this idiotic fight. He’s right, Brock made it about Steve, Steve was defending his friend, no one is going to think Steve was defending his gay fuck buddy. It’s fine.

Bucky tries not to think too hard about it, just sends  _ Can’t punch every idiot who calls me a cocksucker or you’d have to find a whole lot of internet trolls  _ and hopes it’s suitably cavalier.

There’s another ominously long time with just those three dots indicating Steve is typing.

**Steve:**

_ Pretty sure I’d have to punch myself. _

**Bucky:**

_ Please don’t I like your face and I had plans for it _

**Steve:**

_ Yeah, I bet you do. _

_ Like my face that is. _

_ You’re coming off another long roadie, so I’m probably gonna be the one calling the play. _

**Bucky:**

_ Like you don’t like bossing me around _

Steve just sends back a smirking emoji. Bucky smiles and deletes the last few texts from his phone before swiping over to Chrome. He’s going to find every article about Steve’s fight, bookmark them, and then send them to him throughout the day to fuck with him.

~*~

The game itself isn’t that exciting, no notable powerplays or short-handed goals, and the goals that are scored are mostly deflections, which are probably the least cool goals in Bucky’s opinion because it takes a second to recognize that they’ve even happened. The most interesting part is probably that the game goes straight through overtime all the way to shootout, though that means Bucky is just sitting on the bench nervously for several minutes because no one’s tapping him unless they somehow end up going thirteen rounds. The don’t – Smithy is a fucking brick wall in goal and Jack scores in the second round, so the Flyers get the extra point. Bucky isn’t tapped for media afterward either, so despite the game running long, he gets out at around the same time as usual. Well, and he might have also rushed his shower a little bit since he’s probably just going to need another one later tonight anyway.

He texts Steve from his locker in the visitor room, not wanting to hover around the Rangers’ in case anyone has shit to say after Steve’s outburst that morning. He can handle it from his guys, they know him well enough and chirping is the foundation of pretty much every hockey friendship, but if one of the Rangers says shit to him, he’s afraid he’s either gonna freeze up super obviously or snap and overreact super obviously. So… shut that shit down by avoiding it completely.

“You texting your girl?”

Bucky flinches a bit, startled. He didn’t even hear Smithy move, fucking goalies.

“What?”

“You always disappear in New York, man. I know your family is here and shit, but I would go for dinner or something, not spend the night in my shitty twin bed when there’s a perfectly good queen at the hotel. Figured you probably had a girl back home.”

“No,” Bucky says, because he may not be ready to tell anyone that he’s gay, but he’s not a liar. “No girl.”

“Oh, sorry, bro,” Smithy replies, voice sympathetic but with no trace of the immense awkwardness that Bucky is feeling. “My bad,” Smithy says, and wanders away, presumably to go be weird at someone else.

Bucky doesn’t know what to do after that conversation.

A text from Steve snaps him out of it, and he mechanically gathers his stuff and wanders to meet Steve near the garage. He’s worried, suddenly, that the other guys are gonna rush their showers and see him meeting Steve instead of his ma on their way to the bus and  _ know _ , and how is this the first time that he’s thought of that? How careless have they been?

Maybe Bucky is hastier about shoving his suitcase in Steve’s trunk and clambering into the passenger seat, and he knows that Steve has caught on that something is up. Bucky doesn’t help when he’s quiet in the car rather than chirping Steve’s stupid fluffy air-dried hair like he usually would, but he doesn’t know what to do.

Steve would probably call him paranoid, and maybe he’s right, but Bucky doesn’t want to be the first out player in the NHL. More than that, he doesn’t want to be one of two of the first out hockey players with Steve. Maybe it was Steve’s idea to do this, but he’s idealistic, he doesn’t think about how bad it could be, how many fans, commentators, team personnel, just people in general could hate him without even knowing him. As scared as Bucky is of that for himself, he’s even more scared for Steve and his sense of a fair and just world. Bucky doesn’t want anyone to take that away from him.

By the time they’ve made it to Steve’s apartment, Bucky’s made his decision. This is the last time they can do this. Bucky has already been hurting, and he isn’t going to let this get to a point where it hurts Steve too.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Bucky pushes Steve against it and kisses him. He keeps it deep and languid, obviously intending to move elsewhere, but in no rush to actually get there.

Steve sinks into it, literally sliding a few inches down the door so he and Bucky are on the same level. His hands come to Bucky’s hips, holding him there gently and making no move to ruck Bucky’s shirt up or undo his belt.

God, Bucky is going to miss this.

He pulls back to rest their foreheads together and takes a shaky breath.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? Was it that hit in the third?” Steve asks, his hand gently moving over Bucky’s ribs on his left side that are definitely bruising but manageable.

“No, I’m fine, Steve.”

“Bullshit.”

Bucky pulls back, still held in Steve’s space with those large, glorious hands bracketing him in place. “Excuse me?” Bucky asks incredulously.

“I know you, Bucky. I’ve known you my entire life,” Steve says earnestly, his hands tightening where they grip Bucky’s waist and back.

Steve’s thumb is digging into the spot where Bucky was hit in the third, but that’s not the reason Bucky wants to flinch back. He forces himself to stay still because he doesn’t want to add any more evidence to whatever case Steve has been building, but he is not prepared to have this conversation. Bucky always thought he’d have more time, but he should have known that when whatever he has with Steve started falling apart, it would come crashing down quickly.

“I know when something is up with you,” Steve continues. “You try to hide it, put on a brave face and suck it up, until you’re freaking out, and you’re on the edge right now. Just tell me. You’ve always told me. Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky says, voice harsh and just barely under the threshold for what Bucky might consider  _ hysterical yelling _ . “It’s not always about you!”

Okay, it’s definitely about Steve, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. Steve doesn’t need to know that his best friend for-literally-ever has been more than half in love with him for over five years. What good would it do? Steve wouldn’t pull away from him, but Bucky couldn’t stand for Steve to tiptoe around him, trying not to hurt feelings that Bucky has been managing for years. He’s one of the few people Steve feels comfortable enough to be sarcastic and sassy and stubborn around and he tells himself that he can’t bear to take that from Steve when really it’s Bucky who can’t bear to lose it.

Bucky pushes away from Steve, who tightens his hold for a moment and then lets go. He balls his hands into fists at his side, already gearing up for a fight. Bucky honestly would prefer if Steve could punch their way out of this conversation, but it doesn’t work like that, and the time for wishful thinking is over.

“Like hell this isn’t about me! Do you know how many times you’ve kissed me first the past three and a half months?  _ Once _ . And I basically asked you to! So don’t tell me that you pushing me against the door and making out with me and then  _ sighing _ like someone’s dying doesn’t mean something!”

“Just because you like to be in charge–”

“For fuck’s sake, I could care less! I’ve just been trying to do whatever you want to do! And you’ve got it in your head that you can’t ask for anything, so I’m left trying to figure out what you want all the time!”

“Oh, I’m sorry fucking me has been such a hardship,” Bucky replies scathingly, trying to cover up the hurt that is rapidly building inside his chest. “Well, the good news is you won’t have to worry about it much longer.”

“What the fuck does that mean? Did you find someone else?”

“Did I  _ find someone else _ ? What, because I can’t be on my own? You really think I’m that pathetic?”

“I didn’t say that! I just don’t know why else you would bre– stop this. It’s been good for both of us… right?”

“You want me to compliment you right now? Yes, Steve, you’ve got a fabulous dick, I’m really gonna miss it, but this isn’t working anymore, you’ve gotta see that.”

“Why would I see that? What the fuck changed between now and a month ago?” And it’s like Bucky can see the gears turning in Steve’s head when he says, “Is this about me fighting Rumlow?”

“Partially, yeah,” Bucky concedes.

“Jesus, Bucky, are you afraid someone found out you’re gay because I punched a guy? Wives aren’t the only shit that’s off-limits, all of the team thinks we’re like brothers. They probably wouldn’t make the jump to forbidden gay lovers if we fucked in front of them, they’d just think we learned some new wrestling move.”

“You know I don’t wanna be out you asshole, but it doesn’t mean I’m ashamed. I’d love if I could kiss a guy and hold hands without it being fucking news, but for whatever reason, liking someone with the same genetalia as you is a fucking big deal to a lot of people, and not in a sunshine and rainbows, let’s go pride sort of way. And we can’t just count on people being ignorant as our main line of defense! If we kept going on like this, someday someone isn’t going to be so stuck in their heterosexual goggles that they’re blind to what’s happening, and what are you gonna do when they start asking questions, Steve? What happens when it’s  _ gay Rangers forward Steve Rogers _ instead of  _ Rangers forward Steve Rogers _ ?”

“First off, you know I’m bisexual–”

“That’s the fucking point, Steve! Do you think anyone is going to care that you’re technically bi when they see you with a man? It doesn’t matter who or what you are, it matters what they think about it!” 

Now Bucky is yelling because he’s so frustrated. He loves that Steve is so optimistic, so trusting of the world, but Bucky isn’t. He’s had to stand up for Steve when he was small against more bullies than he’d ever realize, fighting half of Steve’s battles behind his back, not to mention that he’s the older brother of three little sisters. He saw how cruel people could be when Becca was thirteen and rode her bike home from a pool party only to crash into Bucky’s arms crying because some douchebags catcalled her and when Bree cut her hair short for freshman year of high school and came home crying because they called her names and deemed Bella the pretty twin and when Bella’s first “boyfriend” (in seventh grade) hit on Bree right in front of her because they were somehow interchangeable for him. And then there was Bucky’s own experiences as a queer, Jewish kid in a predominately white, heterosexual athletic environment. Yeah, opposing players may not have known he was gay, but that didn’t stop them from whispering  _ fag _ under their breath so the refs couldn’t hear, each one another nick in the thick armor Bucky built around himself. Players on his own team weren’t intentionally malicious, but they still casually excluded him from their Christmas party because they didn’t think he’d want to come anyway or would think it was odd for him to miss practice on Rosh HaShana or Yom Kippur, though it wasn’t like any of them thought they should have practice on Christmas.

“Sure, the whole league can say ‘if you can play, you can play, we don’t care about anything else,’ but do you think that there isn’t one teammate who wouldn’t treat you differently if they thought you may be – just may be – looking at their dick in the locker room? Rumlow didn’t know you were bi and he was already saying homophobic shit. And you know that not all fans are going to be accepting and understanding, and what PR teams want to handle that fallout even if you’re a dream in every other aspect? How many guys are out while they’re still playing in any major sport, Steve? There’s a fucking reason it’s such a small number! I’m being realistic here!”

“You act like it’s inevitable that people find out! How many guys have come out after they’re retired? It doesn’t have to go that way, Bucky.”

“No, not if you’re careful, and Steve, we have not been careful. Punching a guy out for me? Kissing in the car at red lights? Sending flirty texts? Fuck, I bet you haven’t even deleted them from your phone.” Steve is silent, and Bucky huffs, disappointed and triumphant all at once. “See? What if someone got your phone? What if someone leaked your texts? Enough of them and it’s pretty damning evidence of what’s been happening. You could try to pass it off as banter, but there’d always be speculation.”

“I won’t punch anyone for talking about you anymore and I’ll delete my texts, alright? There, problem solved.”

“Yeah, and for what? All this trouble for a hook-up? You can’t tell me you want to do this forever. It’s not worth all this, Steve,” Bucky says, though what he’s really thinking is  _ I’m not sure I’m worth all this _ .

“God, is it really just a fucking hook-up to you, Bucky?”

Bucky feels a cold wash of fear over him. There’s no way Steve knows about his feelings, and even if he did, he wouldn’t throw them in his face like that. Steve is an asshole, but not like that.

“What?” Bucky manages to choke out.

“We’ve been best friends since we were kids. We text nearly everyday and video call every week. You came to my ma’s for Christmas and I would have done Hanukkah with your family if the timing worked out right. I’ve fasted with you for Yom Kippur and you don’t eat peanut butter even when I’m not around because I’m allergic to it and it wouldn’t be fair. Sure, we could just add sex on top of that and call it a hook-up, but it hasn’t felt like a hook-up for a long time, at least not for me, Bucky. It feels like we could be dating.” 

Bucky has no idea what that means. There’s definitely one way that he’s hearing it, but it feels unreal.

“What are you saying, Steve?”

“I want it to be more than a hook-up!”

“What?” Bucky says without thinking. He feels like he can’t breathe or he’ll accidentally tumble a house of cards he didn’t even know he was standing on and break his own heart in the process.

Steve’s hands unclench from the fists he’s had rigidly by his sides this whole argument, and he holds them out, palms up beseechingly, like he thinks he has something to beg Bucky for when Bucky would try to give him the world no questions asked if he thought it would make Steve happy.

“Bucky, just hear me out. It doesn’t have to change anything between us. I know it was a shitty thing to do, offering to hook up with you without telling you that I thought I liked you as more than a friend, but I’ve been following you since I was a kid, just trying to get you to look at me. I never thought I’d have this much, it can go back to the way it was before, I’ll be fine, I promise. But if there’s any part of you that thinks you might be able to do more, I’ll do anything to make it work, I swear.”

“Are you serious?” Bucky asks, mouth still moving without his permission. He kind of wants to ask Steve to punch him to see if he wakes up.

Steve looks crestfallen for a second and then he looks angry, because of course Steve would prefer anger over sadness. “You don’t have to be a dick about it, Buck.”

“No!” Bucky shouts, because if this was a dream, he and Steve would have magically would up in bed and already be fucking while tenderly looking into each other’s eyes. He may have had some experience with how dreams of Steve confessing that he feels the same way tend to go.

“Steve, I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was fourteen. I just didn’t ever think you’d feel the same way. You never said anything.”

“I didn’t realize that it wasn’t just that you were my best friend until I was sixteen. No one seemed to think about their best friend the way I thought about you. I blurted out that I was bi like a week later. I thought I was so obvious saying I thought I liked guys when I was staring right at you.”

“You said you were thinking of asking Peggy Carter out in the same breath! What was I supposed to say, don’t date her, date me instead?”

Steve chuckles, small and self-deprecating but also warm. He runs one hand against the back of his neck, and Bucky has to stop himself from reaching out to touch that same spot and feel Steve’s soft hair brush against his knuckles.

“It was stupid, I know, but I kind of wished you would. I thought if there was any chance, you would have said something right then.”

“You just told me you were bi, not that you liked me. I wasn’t going to be the asshole to assume you were attracted to every dude just because you might have liked some of them. And you’d already had stars in your eyes over Peggy, I thought you just needed someone to say you could like both, and I was your best friend, that was my job right then.”

“Yeah, you’re a good friend, Bucky,” Steve says and smiles at him, dropping his hand from the back of his neck to shove both into his back pockets. He looks confident and cocky, small and scared all at once. “Think you’d make a good boyfriend, too?”

“I don’t know. Never really had the opportunity before,” Bucky answers honestly. Closeted fumbling in high school and casual hook-ups were different than really being with someone, and while he and Steve know a lot about each other and have a hell of a lot of shared life experience, Steve is still in New York and Bucky is in Philadelphia for at least eight months out of the year. “Sure you want to try it, Stevie? If it doesn’t work, I can’t lose you.”

Steve softens and reaches for Bucky’s hand, and if it isn’t weird as fuck to realize that he’s had sex with Steve several times but this is the first time since they were in elementary school that he’s held his hand.

“You’re right, Bucky, you can’t lose me,” Steve says, bringing his other hand up to cup the side of Bucky’s face, palm rough and calloused but still so soft and tender as he keeps Bucky’s eyes on his and sweeps his thumb gently across the back of Bucky’s hand and across his cheek at the same time. He’s never had anyone touch him like this before, always asked Steve for rough because he knew he’d melt into gentleness too easily and give himself away. But now he doesn’t have to worry, he can have all of this, everything, with Steve. Bucky tilts his face into Steve’s touch and sighs when he is met with support.

“Remember what you said the night of the OHL draft when we learned you were going to the Otters?”

“Till the end of the line,” Bucky whispers, closing his eyes against the intensity of Steve’s gaze. He feels Steve’s thumb brush against his lips after he’s done, and he sighs.

“Mm-hm. I’ll always be with you till the end of the line.” 

“You’re such a sap,” Bucky mutters, lips curling into a teasing smile.

“You’re the one who said it four years ago, jerk.”

“Never said I wasn’t a sap. And you remember it? Definitely sappy, punk.”

Steve’s smile turns sharp and salacious. His thumb presses against the center of Bucky’s bottom lip firmly, no longer light and soft, but affectionate all the same. “I can think of a better use for that smart mouth.”

“I’m open to suggestions, Steve.”

“It took you such a long time to kiss me, why don’t we just do that for a while? And then maybe if you’re interested in switching things up, you could fuck me.”

Bucky crashes his lips into Steve’s smug mouth, biting his bottom lip and then soothing it with his tongue when Steve groans. He pulls back just enough to say, “Holy shit, Steve,  _ fuck _ ,” breath still mingling with Steve’s in the small space between them.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Take it as a  _ hell yes _ .”

“You always seemed to like bottoming so much, I wasn’t sure.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to bottom and didn’t really want to ask until you brought it up,” Bucky replies. “We were both idiots and we have a lot of time to make up for, so if there’s nothing else, can we get to that because I’m dying over here, Stevie.”

Steve laughs, just a little mean like he knows Bucky likes. “So eager. I didn’t think you could get more desperate for it than when I had my dick inside you, but you’d just as quick get off to a warm, slick hole, huh?”

Bucky just whimpers in response and pushes even further into Steve, their fronts in contact in every possible spot. He feels Steve hot and hard against him through his suit pants and hitches his own hips, hoping to get some friction for them both.

“Fuck, Bucky,” Steve groans, and then he lifts Bucky off the ground. Bucky wraps his legs around Steve’s waist, still trying to hitch their hips together with the limited leverage he has. It might increase the chances that Steve accidentally runs them into a wall on the way to his bedroom, but that is a chance Bucky is willing to take. “The things you do to me.”

“Oh, just wait for the things I’m gonna do to you, sweetheart.” 

“Jesus, Bucky, that was terrible,” Steve replies.

“Too late now, pal, you’re stuck with me. Now be a good boy and throw me on your bed and let me have my wicked way with you.”

Steve listens to him and throws him on the bed before crawling up over him, his eyes blown wide and dark, and – huh, Bucky might have to reevaluate a few things. Looking back at everything, it is incredibly obvious that Steve likes it when Bucky tells him what to do even more than Bucky thought.

“Yeah, you wanna be a good boy for me, don’t you, Stevie? That’s what you wanted all along? Mm, you’ve been so good, baby, listening to what I tell you and fucking me good. You always had such good ideas, but you’d wait for me to ask you, wouldn’t you? Poor thing, when I didn’t want to decide, that was hard for you, wasn’t it? You just wanted to know you were being good.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” Steve gasps, mouthing at his neck and dropping some of his crushing weight over Bucky’s chest as he ruts against him.

“Yeah, you’ve always been a good boy, Steve. Even when you were a little shit making me fight for you left and right, you were the best I’ve ever known.”

Steve shudders against him. “Bucky, if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear–”

“You were already so worked up, weren’t you honey, and here I am making it worse with all this praise. Get me the lube, Stevie, I’ll open you up.”

Steve scrambles to obey, and it feels more natural than it ever has before. Bucky can ask for what he wants without being afraid he’s gonna scare Steve off, and Steve can be overeager and fumbling, not all steady confidence like he’s had to be to keep the rest of the world from overlooking him. They can be themselves alone here together, the last place that they haven’t shared everything with each other.

“What are you smiling at?” Steve asks, settling on the bed next to him.

Bucky pushes up on his elbows and turns to him, smile just as wide and bright. He doesn’t see any reason to hide his joy at this moment when he knows Steve has been gone on him nearly as long as he’s been gone on Steve. “I’m just happy we finally got here, Steve.”

Steve leans forward to kiss him. “You’re definitely a sap,” he murmurs between kisses. “I’m glad we got here, too, Bucky.”

He kisses Bucky slow and deep for several moments, and then Bucky feels the cool thin tube of lube pressed into his hand alone with the foil covering of a condom pressed into his hands. Steve’s lips curl smugly into the kiss, and Bucky laughs into his smile, unwilling to move away. He throws a leg over Steve’s thighs, settling on top of Steve and slicking a few fingers, never breaking the kiss for more than a brief second to start a new slick press of lips and tongues. Bucky kisses him the entire time he opens Steve up even when Steve is panting around three fingers and it’s less of a kiss and more sharing breath.

“C’mon Bucky, I’m ready.”

Bucky kisses him once, firmly and almost chaste if it weren’t for the position they’re in, and pulls his fingers out. He rolls the condom on and slicks himself up, positioning himself between Steve’s spread knees. Steve wraps his legs loosely around Bucky’s waist, head and shoulders propped against his own navy blue sheets and dark wooden headboard, the contrast making his skin look pale in the dim moonlight filtering in from the windows. He’s absolutely beautiful and that thought doesn’t make him hurt like it did before because Steve is his now, not some temporary thing he could lose at any second.

Bucky stills with the head of his dick pressing against Steve’s rim, not quite pushing in. “Okay?”

“Come down here and kiss me and fuck me and I’ll be perfect.”

Well, Bucky can do that. 

Steve hisses a bit when Bucky pushes in, but he moves into it, and sighs when Bucky is pressed as deep as he can go. He reaches up and tangles a hand in Bucky’s hair, pulling him down at the same time that he leans up a bit to kiss him. Bucky shifts a bit to meet Steve there, one hand remaining on Steve’s hips to steady him and the other coming up to wrap around his back and hold him up where he’s clinging to Bucky.

Steve gasps and then moans into the kiss, and Bucky knows he’s found Steve’s prostate, as accidental as it may have been.

“You feel good, Stevie?”

“Yeah, Buck, I feel fucking great. You can move, please, c’mon.”

Bucky shifts, readjusting so Steve is laying back and Bucky is draped over him, just barely keeping his weight from blanketing Steve but needing to be close if they’re going to trade kisses. Without their reservations about feelings bleeding through kisses, they’re doing it a hell of a lot more. Bucky never really cared about kissing before, but he could kiss Steve forever. He gets so pliant and open with it, like he wants to sink into Bucky’s mouth.

There’s not much room to pull out, but Bucky doesn’t need or want this to be hard and fast, is perfectly content with slow rolls of his hips, and judging by the way Steve meets him on each thrust and the noises that escape even muffled by Bucky’s mouth over his, Steve is happy with the pace as well.

God, Bucky loves the sounds Steve makes, little  _ ah ah ah _ s and long drawn out  _ oh _ s, as Bucky pulls out just a bit and grinds back in, hitting that spot almost every time. Getting to see how much he’s affecting Steve is driving him closer and closer to the edge, and he gasps out, “Steve, baby, you feel so good, I’m gonna come soon, sweetheart. Want you to come too, fuck.”

“Me too, Buck, me too,” Steve pants, and he starts jerking his dick long and slow in time with Bucky’s thrusts. “Jesus, never thought I’d get this, never thought it’d feel this good.”

“Shit, Stevie,” Bucky says and comes, stilling inside of Steve and groaning when he feels Steve flutter around him when he comes seconds later. It’s on the edge of too much, and Bucky thrusts in and out minutely, not sure whether he wants to feel more or less of it, just knowing he wants everything with Steve.

Bucky pulls out and ties off the condom, shakily making his way to the bathroom to toss it before coming back to flop down next to Steve.

“Was that okay?” Bucky asks.

Steve snorts. “Yeah,” he rasps, slinging an arm over Bucky’s chest and tangling their legs together. “That was perfect, Bucky.”

Steve snuggles further into his side, one long line of sleepy warmth. Bucky feels his breath slow and fall into a deep, even rhythm and Bucky thinks to himself  _ maybe this whole thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all _ before he falls asleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hockey notes: Hockey does one sudden-death overtime for five minutes if both teams are tied after the end of regulation and if no one scores during that overtime period, they then do a shootout. Shootouts are one-on-one between a skater and the goalie and each team takes turns. Initially it is best of three rounds, but if both teams are tied at the end of three rounds, it then becomes sudden death with the team shooting second having one opportunity to tie if the first team scores in a new round. Fun fact: the longest on record is 20 rounds between the Florida Panthers and Washington Capitals.


	5. Game 5: April 5, NYR @ PHI (2-4)

“You really had to try and play spoiler, huh, Stevie?” Bucky teases, settling on his couch next to Steve and pressing an ice pack to his rapidly swelling cheek. He has one of his own strapped to his ribs, trying to tame a bruise from a hit a few games ago that’s still smarting.

“Just because the Flyers are in the playoffs and the Rangers missed it by six points this year doesn’t mean that I’m just gonna roll over and give up,” Steve replies tartly.

“No one who knows you would have expected that, but really, rookie, fighting Johnsy? You may be the same height, but he’s got fifteen pounds and four years of experience on you.”

“Hey, I got a couple of good hits in there,” Steve protests.

“Yeah, my big tough guy,” Bucky croons, moving the ice pack to the side for a moment and running his fingers over the glued-together cut in Steve’s cheek. “Showing off how strong you are for me, trying to be impressive, but I didn’t ask you to fight my teammate, did I? All it did was get you a little roughed up.”

“Minor injuries. Didn’t even keep me out of the game,” Steve breathes, eyes wide. Bucky just has to claim him and compliment him a bit and he gets so worked up for it, and if that isn’t the best power trip Bucky has ever had. Bucky likes a side of humiliation with his praise but Steve has a praise kink a mile wide. Tell him he’s a good boy and Bucky can lead him around by the dick.

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just hums and replaces the ice pack over Steve’s cheek. There’s a few moments of silence, Bucky pretending that he’s appreciating the Philadelphia sunset out of his window after an afternoon game and not waiting to see whether Steve asks for Bucky to compliment him or pushes him around and makes Bucky recognize him. Bucky could go either way, though he kind of wants to see the submissive side of Steve that’s still so new to him.

“Got a Gordie Howe,” Steve finally mumbles.

Bucky suppresses a smirk. “Mm, you did, baby. Only two goals and you got one of them and assisted on the other. And you really did do well in that fight considering it was Johnsy.” He presses a kiss against Steve’s forehead. “I’m proud of you, Stevie. You had a good game. You had a good season.”

“Thanks, Bucky,” Steve replies, already sounding happier. “And you’re gonna kill it in the playoffs. Kick the Capitals asses.”

“What would Rangers nation say to you rooting on a Flyer?” Bucky teases.

“Eh, they’d probably be okay with it if it was against the Capitals.”

Bucky laughs. “Fair enough.”

The ice against his side isn’t that cold anymore and the towel wrapped around the pack on Steve’s face is getting damp. Bucky takes them both to put in the freezer and grabs two bottles of blue gatorade on his way back to the living room.

“C’mon, pal,” Bucky calls as he walks past the couch towards his bedroom. “You may have a busted face, but I only have three days before playoffs and six before you fuck off to Europe, and thus far we’ve only fucked in the entryway. I need some memories in my bed to tide me over until you bring back gold.”

Steve dutifully follows after him, catching Bucky around the waist after he sets the bottles down on his nightstand and kissing him on the back of the neck where Bucky is ticklish, making Bucky giggle and squirm, especially when he keeps his mouth there to say, “You can’t say I’m fucking off to Europe for Worlds and ask me to bring back a gold medal in the same breath.”

“Oh really? Think I just did, punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve replies and shoves him a bit.

“You like it.”

“What was it you said to me before? Something about me tricking you into thinking being an asshole was hot. Well, you’re older, I learned it all from you. I was doomed from the start.”

“Well, if I did corrupt you, I’ve got no regrets,” Bucky replies, smiling winningly and kissing Steve sweetly. When Steve is looking a little dazed and chasing his mouth, Bucky pushes him back onto the bed, watching that adorable little confused look on his face like Steve has no idea how he got there. “Now, c’mon Stevie, I want you to fuck me and I think you wanna do whatever I tell you to and make me feel good. Might be the last time to get you inside of me before I start the playoffs, and I want to take advantage of it.”

“Fuck, yeah, whatever you want, Buck,” Steve mutters.

“There’s a good boy,” Bucky says, trying not to laugh at how far gone Steve is already. “Take your clothes off.”

Steve sits up and tugs his shirt over his head before pushing at his sweatpants, planting his feet and arching up so he can shove them as far down as possible before kicking them off. He’s naked faster than Bucky is and Bucky definitely has it objectively easier considering he's still standing. Steve reaches a hand out to steady Bucky as he tugs his own pants all the way off.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky says, and Steve absolutely beams. “Wanna open me up? Get me ready for your cock? It’s been a while, sweetheart, might need a lot of prep,” Bucky jokingly warns as he settles on Steve’s lap. Steve loves doing things for Bucky and if it’s in Bucky’s power to make him feel that good, he’s going to do it.

“Yeah, Bucky, please.”

“Such a good boy. So polite. But baby, I love the way your fingers feel inside me, no need to say please.”

Steve is already hazy, making little sounds but not really saying anything unless Bucky asks him a direct question, and he just whines a bit when Bucky coats Steve’s fingers in lube and guides them to his entrance. He pushes two in immediately, knowing how Bucky likes the burn.

“Mm, feels good, Stevie,” Bucky says, loving how Steve’s breath hitches and he curls his fingers to hit Bucky’s prostate, zoning in on it when Bucky moans and pushes further into Steve’s hand. “Yeah, just like that, God, so good for me, baby. Gimme another finger, c’mon.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate, pulling out and adding more lube before pushing three fingers in, curling and rubbing against that spot that sends sparks of static through Bucky’s bloodstream.

Bucky mutters nonsense about how good Steve is being, how nice he’s making Bucky feel, whatever praise comes to his mind and leaves it just as quickly. It feels like forever and no time at all before he’s clutching Steve’s shoulders tightly and telling him, “Stevie, baby, you gotta stop, you’re gonna make me come.”

Steve looks adorably conflicted, eyes wide and dark and lips red and slick from where he’s been licking and biting them. He wants to do what Bucky says and he wants to make him come so badly and he doesn’t know what to do when Bucky tells him not to that he just stills with three fingers still inside Bucky, looking up at him and whimpering, seeking more direction.

“Want to come on your dick, sweetheart. Pull your fingers out of me and get a condom,” Bucky says, and Steve is gentle even in his haste to comply, fingers pulling out of Bucky slowly while his other hand fumbles at the nightstand. “There’s my good boy.”

Bucky slides off of Steve and settles back against the dark grey sheets. He wants Steve to feel like he’s worked for it and he wants to look at him, and Bucky doesn’t care if that makes him soft.

“C’mere big guy, want it just like this,” Bucky says, pulling Steve in with a leg around his side until Steve has crawled between Bucky’s spread thighs, hands moving over the muscles there reverently. “Yeah, buddy, you can keep feeling me up when you’re in me, c’mon,” Bucky prompts, digging his heels into Steve’s lower back to try to spur him on.

He has to remember to be sweet to Steve, though he can just imagine Steve calling him  _ poor thing  _ and talking about how Bucky would be  _ so desperate for whatever I wanna give you, Bucky, fuck _ if he was that far gone. Steve pushes in, slow and carefully watchful of Bucky’s facial expression when he throws his head back and sighs, and Bucky mumbles, “Such a good listener, following my instructions. Now be a good boy and go harder,  _ yes, fuck,  _ just like that, Stevie.”

Steve sets up a slow but punishing rhythm, their skin slapping together audibly each time he thrusts in. His hands move over Bucky’s body, touching everywhere gently before pushing on the bruise on Bucky’s side lightly, questioningly.

“Yeah, go on baby, push just a little, make that mark yours.”

Steve presses his palm down a bit, just enough for Bucky to feel a twinge of pain, but fuck if it isn’t hot to think of Steve fucking him instead of Bucky getting crushed against the boards.

“Shit, Steve, faster, c’mon baby, yes, just like that,” Bucky urges, getting a hand on his dick and stroking quickly, feeling that pressure rapidly building inside him. “Gonna come, sweetheart. Don’t stop, don’t stop, wanna feel you come inside me, fuck, wanna feel you come because I’m milking it out of you.”

Bucky arches, come splattering over his stomach and where Steve’s long fingers are splayed out against his diaphragm, palm still pressing against Bucky’s side wonderfully. Steve makes a low keening sound and his thrusts get shorter and faster, chasing his own release, and the sensation is almost too much, but Bucky loves it.

Steve starts to slow, but he’s still trying to fuck Bucky even after he’s come and is making tiny hurt noises from the overstimulation, all because Bucky didn’t say he could stop and he’s trying so hard to be good for him.

“Oh, Stevie, you can stop now. Thank you, sweetheart, made me feel so good. Such a good boy.”

Bucky directs Steve to get rid of the condom and clean up a bit while he goes and retrieves the ice packs from the freezer. They could both use one more round of ice before they pass out for the night, and in twenty minutes, Steve will probably not only be eager to but also capable of putting them back so Bucky doesn’t have to get up again.

Bucky comes back into his bedroom to see Steve already sitting on the left side of the bed, sipping at one of the gatorades.

“Hey Steve, we’ll switch back for bed, but I wanna cuddle without freezing half your body unnecessarily, so budge over,” Bucky says, hip checking him lightly.

Steve scoots over easily and offers to help with the strap on Bucky’s ice pack and glows anew when Bucky thanks him. He tangles their limbs together afterward, curling up so his head can rest on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky can hold the other ice pack to his cheek.

“Twenty minutes, okay, Stevie? Then you can put the ice packs away for me and we’ll get ready for bed. Sound good?”

“Mm-hm, sounds great, Buck.”

Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s hair. They can worry about playoffs and Worlds and how they’re going to handle next season apart after a summer together later. For now, Bucky is just fine staying in this moment, he and Steve contently curled up together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been my baby and it's finally done, though I think I will come back to Steve and Bucky as hockey boys periodically because I love them and this tiny world I have created.
> 
> If you have read all of this, thank you so much, and I hope you enjoyed it! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. I would love to write more of what people like, so knowing what that is is super helpful for me.

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Mise au Jeu de la Zone Neutre  
> Creator: aintyouafraid  
> Card number: 014  
> Squares Filled (in chapter order): A2 ("Punk"), C2 (Revenge), E4 (Wall Sex), A3 ("Your Pal, Your Buddy, Your Bucky"), and C4 (Minor Injuries)  
> Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427373/chapters/64383904  
> Rating: E  
> Archive warnings: references to casual anti-semitism (e.g. no recognition of important holidays, exclusion from "Christmas parties" as children)  
> Major tags: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Dom/sub Undertones, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Switching  
> Summary: Bucky and Steve have known each other since they were seven and six respectively and they have been best friends ever since, even when Bucky is drafted to the rival Philadelphia Flyers and Steve goes to the New York Rangers. Bucky still doesn't expect Steve to suggest a friends with benefits situation. It's a terrible idea. That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to do it anyway, though.  
> Word Count: 24,495 (By Chapter: 7684, 3942, 5103, 5817, 1949)


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